


Out of Space, Out of Time

by flares



Category: One Direction (Band), Zayn Malik (Musician)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Awkward Flirting, Bad Puns, Blind Date, F/M, Fluff, I spoil the movie Gravity sorry, Implied Liam Payne/Sophia Smith, M/M, Outer Space, Past Perrie Edwards/Zayn Malik, References to Space Jam, floating fruit
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-25
Updated: 2016-03-25
Packaged: 2018-05-29 01:46:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 40,687
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6353980
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flares/pseuds/flares
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <em><b>Zayn</b>: Hey, I’m Zayn. I’m here for our date.</em>
</p><p><em>For a few seconds, he just stares at the screen, tapping his fingers lightly against the table. Harry’s voice—“You’re fine, Zayn. You’re doing fine.” — barely registers in his head. The text ‘Niall is typing…’ pops up and Zayn wishes that he’d been more adamant about the alcohol. Wine is sounding really good right about now.</em><br/> </p><p>AU in which Zayn is new in town, Niall might not be where Zayn thinks he is, and Harry sets them up on a blind Skype date.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Wow, okay. I have so so many people to thank for helping me with this, and I've made the executive decision to save most of it for the end because I tend to get sappy. Huge thanks to all the mods for organizing the Big Bang, and thank yous also to my lovely beta Lo and my lovely artist Di (a longer thank-you is at the end aha). 
> 
> The fic post -- with art which I'm in LOVE with -- can be found on [this tumblr post](http://zot5.tumblr.com/post/153238627722/thethingsyoudo-out-of-space-out-of-time-by) and the playlist (which features more art, both of which I'm also in love with) can be found on [this tumblr post](http://wepush.tumblr.com/post/141683211660/out-of-space-out-of-time-flares-for-1d-big-bang)!
> 
> Title from Dream-Land by Edgar Allan Poe. Original inspiration for this fic is from [this instagram post](https://www.instagram.com/p/60CVZSgXuS/) by Scott Kelly.

Zayn’s just about reached where Liam is standing behind the bar when he trips over a stool. Or maybe on second thought they were legs, he’s not totally sure, but either way he’s on the ground with a dull ache in his ankle.

“Oh, my God. I am so sorry. Are you okay?”

Zayn turns over onto his back and looks into huge, flying-saucer eyes. The guy’s hair is wild and the lights of the bar behind him make it look like some sort of halo around his head. He looks—well, he looks really drunk.

“Do you need help up? Do you need me to buy you a drink?” The boy continues, slurring, voice as slow as molasses. “Liam is going to call me a cab. He can help you get home, too.”

Zayn takes the guy’s outstretched hand and pulls himself to his feet. “Nah, man. I’m fine, really. Just here, um, actually, to pick up Liam. His girlfriend usually picks him up but she can’t and it’s, like, pouring.”

“Oh, that’s nice of you. I think he mentioned that. You sure you’re okay? I’m Harry,” he says. The grip Harry’s got on Zayn’s hand is strong, and he tugs until Zayn’s standing at the bar with him. And, ah, there’s Liam, eyebrows raised, watching the exchange with surprise.

“Oh, no. I’m so late, aren’t I?” Liam stresses, flipping his arm so he can look at his watch. “Shit, man. I’m so sorry. Boss asked me to finish cleaning this up, so I’ll be ready to go soon.”

Zayn makes a vague waving gesture with his hand, hopes it comes off as a _don’t worry about it_. “It’s fine. Just give me a warning next time so I know to wait, and that you didn’t get killed or something.”

Harry’s hand smacks gently on his shoulder and when Zayn looks over at him, his eyes are all narrowed and serious. “This area of town is good, mostly. Liam would be out right away if it was a bad area. Good area, just so you know. No abnormally high murder rates.”

Does Zayn just _radiate_ a “new in town” vibe, or something? Ridiculous. “I know that,” Zayn says back, even though it’s a little bit of a lie. He looked over the crime section in Metro Vancouver’s Wikipedia page ages ago. When he was waiting in the airport, already having made the decision to move, that is.

“I don’t think you did, actually,” a voice quips from Zayn’s other side. This guy reaches out to ruffle Liam’s hair and pinch rather harshly at his cheek. “You aren’t from around here.”

“Okay, but I’ve been here for months,” Zayn defends himself. “Long enough to know, like, areas.” He can’t believe he’s being picked apart by strangers in a bar. Liam is watching the exchange with an amused smile. He doesn’t look as if he’ll come to Zayn’s rescue any time soon.

“But your _hair_ , man. It’s clear that you don’t know how the weather works,” the guy says, gesturing pointedly up at Zayn’s hair. It’s all droopy and limp and damp, the rain having had its way with it. Zayn had been soaked by the time he made it from his apartment to his car. "I'm Louis," he continues, giving Zayn a quick once-over that has him fighting the urge to turn and bolt from the bar. “You’ve been keeping secrets, Liam.” Louis directs this at Liam without breaking eye contact.

Liam squawks indignantly from where he’s at the sink, mid-scrub. “He’s not my secret, _Louis_. Zayn is his own secret.”

Louis clamps his hand down hard on Zayn’s shoulder. “Ah, I see.”

And Zayn, well. He’s having a hard time keeping up, in all honesty. “Um.”

“Um, indeed,” Harry says, nodding seriously. Honestly, Zayn forgot he was still there.

“Um,” Zayn repeats, cringing. Liam’s stretched across the counter to wipe away a spill, and Zayn wants to just yank him over the rest of the way and _run_. “Yeah. I’ve got the car parked down the road, Li. It could get towed if we stay any longer. I didn’t pay.”

Before he can reply, Louis’ hand lashes out and smacks Liam right in the mouth. “You can’t leave!” Liam rubs at his jaw, and Zayn notes with a bit of worry that he seems otherwise unbothered. Is Liam getting smacked all the time?

“My shift is over, Louis. I’ll call you guys a cab, Zayn is going to drive me home, and I’ll be back tomorrow. So will you two,” Liam says, directing the statement to Harry as well. He talks gently and slowly, but not like how Zayn’s seen him talk to the other drunk strangers at the bar. “As always.”

Harry makes a sad noise, then, draping himself along Zayn’s back and hooking his noodle-like arms around his shoulders. Zayn feels like he’s burning. “But we’ve just met Zee! You can’t take him from us now.”

“ _Zee_ is taking _me_ ,” Liam says, rolling his eyes at Harry when he giggles and says, _“_ Ha, _rhymes_.”

“And I’m sure we can arrange for him to make a special appearance, can’t we?” Louis says, turning to Zayn slowly. It doesn’t feel like a question. “Maybe we can figure out why he doesn’t appear to have invested in an umbrella.”

Zayn’s not sure about this at all. These boys are so much, so overwhelming and poking and prodding. He needs more time to process, or something. He’s just about to voice this, say, _Maybe another time,_ and tack on something about extra hours at the gallery for authenticity, but then Liam catches his eye.

He looks happy. His eyes are twinkling as he bats away Louis with one hand and gently holds Harry’s in his other. There’s this light to his expression that Zayn’s always seen when Liam is around people he cares about—when he’s around Zayn, that is—and it’s magnified now. Liam looks perfectly at ease with these boys, and that has to say something. Right?

“Yeah, okay,” Zayn finds himself saying, quietly. Maybe he was hoping they wouldn’t hear him over the noise in the club, but of course they do, what with them all sardined together. “Okay, I’ll see if I can make it out tomorrow. But tonight we have to go. _Now_ we have to go.”

Harry rumbles out a long “ _Yayyyyyy,”_ straight into Zayn’s ear and Louis grins at him like he’s just won something. As they all leave—after Liam clocks out and Louis and Harry stumble their way into a cab—Liam slings an arm around Zayn’s shoulders and presses a quick kiss to his temple.

“They’re good guys, promise,” he says. “Little much at first, but they’re good. You’ll get used to it. Thank you for picking me up. Soph was a bit held up at work, and I wasn’t really up for walking home in this weather.”

“No problem. And yeah, I figured,” Zayn laughs, tucks his head down. The dark, cloudy sky rumbles menacingly before opening up, and they’re walking through a downpour within seconds. Liam retracts his arm so he can twist around. He yanks up his hood before rummaging in his bag and producing an umbrella, and Zayn can’t help the huff he lets out.

Liam laughs in delight, though, looking at him. Zayn crosses his arms across his chest, trying to force-keep his body heat in, maybe, before pouting. Damn locals.

“There’s no way you’re having that much trouble,” Zayn grumbles, watching as Liam inspects the handle. Liam is shit at hiding his grin, his amusement obvious as Zayn just stands and waits for him in the middle of the sidewalk.

Eventually Liam lets out a loud chuckle and the umbrella springs open. He shares, thankfully, wrapping his arm around Zayn again so they can both fit under. “I wasn’t. You’re right.”

“As per usual,” Zayn says, swatting away Liam’s hand as he tries to smack him upside the head. The umbrella dips enough that Zayn feels a few more drops land on his nose. The wind hasn’t picked up yet, thank God.

“Just drive me home, you idiot.”

 

****

 

The next night, Zayn and Liam meet Louis and Harry at the bar.

Zayn makes sure Liam is willing to be the designated driver. Since Liam had told him their plans—with an infuriatingly bright and hopeful smile on his face—Zayn’s anxiety levels have been rising slowly. He’s being a bit irrational, he knows, but something about letting new people in is always nerve-wracking. To get through the night, he’d just like to have something to take the edge off. Yesterday, a bit jokingly, Liam added him to a group chat with the three of them. They sent dick jokes and suggestive emojis the whole day, and Zayn hasn’t quite got the nerve to say anything back, yet.

“Hello!” Harry yells. He’s on the other side of the bar, and Zayn can’t even hear him over the noise. It’s just all too easy to spot him with how he’s waving his arms around, like one of those air dancers, and even easier to read his lips as he over-exaggerates the word.

The people look more like one huge mass than individual bodies, Zayn thinks. He’s just about decided they can skirt around the edges of it unscathed when Liam tugs him straight into the thick of it. He weaves through it expertly, but Zayn keeps bumping into people, getting his toes stepped on and elbows to his side.

When they make it through, Harry immediately pulls at his arm, sits Zayn down in the booth next to him. There are two empty glasses on the table between him and Louis already, not including the ones they’re currently nursing. Zayn wants to catch up.

“I’ll go get us some drinks,” Liam says, having to lean in close to be heard over the noise. Zayn nods at him before turning back to the table.

“It’s good to have you here,” Harry starts, patting him gently on the shoulder. “There’s been like, a missing piece. You’re like another lovely piece, so that the missing one doesn’t seem so—” Harry makes this odd gesture with his hands that could mean anything. “Doesn’t seem so _missing_ , you know?”

Zayn doesn’t know, but he nods anyways. Harry’s talking all slow again, like he was last night. Maybe it’s just his voice and not the drink.

“What Harry is trying to say,” Louis speaks up, rolling his eyes in a way that seems more fond than exasperated, “is that one of our friends is no longer close enough to get drunk and make bad decisions with, since he’s gone out and got an actual job. He’s accomplishing shit, you see.”

Harry makes a noise from beside him, and when Zayn looks over he’s full-on pouting. “We just miss him a lot. When he gets back—when he’s less busy, you should meet him. We’d be a good five-some. A _quintet_.”

Again, Zayn nods, too jerky to be casual. He runs his hands through his hair with shaky fingers. “I’m sure we would be.”

“We’ll have to, like, introduce him to you and Liam,” Louis says. “As soon as we’re all free.”

“A sextet is six people,” Harry adds, swirling his finger around the rim of his glass. “It’s a cool word. We could get one more, like maybe Nick—”

“Quintets are fine. Five’s a party, six’s a crowd, you know,” Louis interrupts, annoyed edge to his words. He takes a rather large mouthful of his quite worryingly neon drink before deflating. “But Ni is good. He’s like… Just the best human.” Both of them look sadly at each other, and Zayn feels very out of the loop. Like he’s supposed to know who this person is. Like he’s supposed to miss him, too. Or maybe he’s just supposed to leave, which is a very inviting thought.

Except Liam returns then, setting down a glass of something too light of a yellow to be beer.

“What’s this?” Zayn questions, swirling it around a little in the glass. It smells sweet, and it’s not like Zayn doesn’t trust Liam to not get him shitty drinks, but it looks a bit too cloudy for him not to ask. “It looks fruity.”

“Fruity doesn’t mean _bad_ , Zayn. It’s hard lemonade. Josh likes them,” Liam says, and Zayn nods again even though he doesn’t know who Josh is. He’s become something of a bobble head tonight. It hasn’t become clear to him until now how detached he’s been. Liam is friends with all these people—people who Liam wants to introduce Zayn to—and Zayn’s done nothing but brush him off since he moved here.

Zayn feels the empty space at his side like a gaping hole, where a blonde should be pressed against him, nipping at his jaw and telling him to just try the lemonade because she wants a taste, too. Knowing her, she’d smile and bat her eyelashes until he caved and let her take him home, still attached at the mouth. It’s ridiculous to be missing her this much still, he thinks. She’s back in Arizona and Zayn hasn’t been in Arizona for months.

“You want to dance?”

Zayn looks up at the woman in front of him. She’s beautiful, really. Nice eyes, an even nicer smile, and long fingernails that make loud tapping noises when she drums them on the counter. She’s standing close enough to him already that Zayn can guess with a certain amount of confidence what she wants out of the conversation. It feels like there are rocks in his stomach.

Things usually end that way, at least. No one thinks he’s someone to build a stable relationship with. And sure, he was that person years ago, but he’s 25 now and he’s _tired_ , is the thing. No one seems to be willing to give him a chance to prove their assumptions wrong.

It’s not something he likes to dwell on.

“Uh,” Zayn mumbles. He looks away from her face, considers making up some excuse about having a date, or something. Louis jabs his elbow hard into his ribs after a moment. “Not really, babe. Sorry.”

She gives one last annoyed tap of her fingernails, huffs out an irritated, “ _Okay, then_ ,” and saunters away. Her legs are nice, too. Zayn would have said yes a few years ago.

But not now.

“Dude,” Louis shoves his shoulder away before immediately dragging Zayn into his side. “You can’t just reject a girl and call her ‘babe’ in the same sentence. It’s like… contradictory.”

Zayn shrugs. He doesn’t want to get into it, at this overcrowded bar with too much alcohol in his bloodstream. It’s too complicated of a conversation.

Harry’s head peeps out from behind Louis’ shoulder a second later, and his face is almost comical. His eyebrows are drawn into a firm line and his mouth is pressed so tightly that Zayn can’t see his lips anymore. The expression is intensely analyzing, like Harry is trying to look inside Zayn’s fucking _soul_.

“All right,” Louis shrugs, smacking his back too hard, jolting Zayn forward into the counter. “If you don’t want to dance with hot girls, then I just don’t know what to say to that.”

A second later, he’s gone, taking Harry with him, and Zayn and Liam finish off their drinks without them. Eventually, their phones both vibrate with messages from the boys’ group chat.

_****Louis**** : dont wait up ;)_

_****Harry**** : Don’t for me either! Nice lady and I are going for pizza. I can bring home leftovers if you want, Lou. x_

_****Louis**** : fuckin sap.. bring pizza_

They leave quickly after that; Liam goes home to Sophia and Zayn goes back to his empty flat. As he falls asleep, he thinks about Perrie, how similar she looked to the girl at the bar, and he wishes that things were different.

 

****

 

It takes about a week for Zayn to start actively participating in their group chat, which Louis keeps changing the name of to various words for “dick” despite Harry’s annoyance. At first it seems like they make a lot of inside jokes, since not everything they’re saying seems to make sense to him. Liam assures Zayn, though, that the majority of things Louis sends are just nonsense to make them laugh and Harry’s jokes just truly aren’t funny.

_****Harry**** : what does a podiatrist say when he’s had a bad day?_

_****Harry**** : “I just started off on the wrong foot.” :D_

_****Louis**** : harry thats the first joke that comes up when u google podiatrist jokes._

_****Harry**** : Oh. Is it really?_

_****Louis**** : u dont clear ur search history, like, ever._

_****Liam**** : you google podiatrist jokes?_

_****Harry**** : What? No, of course not._

“I promise,” Liam says one afternoon, when Zayn’s phone is clutched in his hand, finger hovering. “They like you. We all fit together. Just let it happen.”

And that’s something Zayn needs to learn to do, really: let things happen. The thought of giving these brand new people a look into his head—into his _life_ —is terrifying, but isn’t every good thing?

Zayn nods, mumbles, “Yeah,” and then clicks send.

_****Zayn**** : ha way to put your foot in your mouth_

_****Louis**** : that barely makes sense bro, but ha ha_

After that, it’s easier to contribute his own thoughts, sarcastic comments, and dick jokes. The smiles Liam sends him when they meet up at the bar every Friday make him feel like he’s finally moving in the right direction.

 

****

 

“So how did you two actually meet?” Louis asks one night, when they’re crammed into a tiny booth at the bar.

“Yeah. We never really did get that story,” Harry says, swirling his drink. They’ve all had a few, at this point, but Harry is always the first to start to slur and whine that he wants to get up and dance. The music playing isn’t exactly dance-worthy, but that isn’t usually a concern of his.

Liam looks over at Zayn, raising an eyebrow as if to say, _Do you want to tell or should I?_ Zayn shrugs. He’s content to lean back, to listen to the boys’ chatter and let the buzz of alcohol settle under his skin. This way, he can let his eyes slip shut and allow the tension to drain out of his body while Liam does all the talking.

“Well, Zayn moved here like two months ago, I think it was. Andy sold him his flat and, like, told me that he was this sad guy who didn’t know anyone here, so I asked him to introduce us so I could show him around the city.” Liam makes an odd strangled noise, and Zayn cracks open an eye to see that Harry has plopped himself onto Liam’s lap. From the looks of it, his elbow is jammed right into Liam’s stomach.

“Man, you’re _pointy_ ,” Liam grumbles, shifting and rearranging Harry’s arms so that they can both sit comfortably before continuing. “Anyways, I showed Zayn around the city, told him about the Skytrain and buses and stuff, and I gave him my number just in case he needed anything. Not, like, three days later he phones me up, tells me he’s lost, and of course he didn’t have Google Maps or anything since he still had his very old Nokia, then-”

Zayn interrupts him with a loud groan of, “I have an iPhone now, shut up,” which Harry giggles at from where his face is pressed against Liam’s neck.

“-and that he needs me to help him find his way home. So I told him how to get to my place, since it was closer. Zayn crashed on the couch for the night, and insisted on making Soph and I breakfast when he woke up even though it was well past noon. And that was that.”

Harry _aww_ ’s, and Louis echoes it sarcastically. “So Liam said that you’re from, like, Arizona? No wonder you don’t own an umbrella,” Louis snorts.

“It rains sometimes, I’m sure,” Liam counters. He sounds like he’s in full defense mode. It’s probably because of the coolers, and it’s sweet even though Liam is wrong, because it rarely rains at all in comparison to how much it rains here.

“Anyways,” Zayn takes a sip of his drink, “How did you all meet?”

At that, Harry’s face goes bright red and he tries to tuck himself even further into Liam’s torso. It’s not working; his limbs are still wildly spilling over Liam’s lap.

“Aw, it’s such a lovely story, Zayn. I’m so glad you asked,” Louis says, holding back a smirk. “Harry isn’t too proud of it, but I’d love to do the honours, here. He vomited all over the person he was trying to sleep with at a party, and it happened to be my roommate at the time, whom I have a complicated relationship with. I was so kind as to show Harry to the bathroom and hold his hair back as he heaved over the toilet.”

“Nick forgave me—”

“Nick forgave, but hasn’t forgotten,” Louis interrupts gently, patting at Harry’s back.

Liam chuckles, but most of the sound is lost in Harry’s hair. “Harry spilled his drink all over me then took off his shirt and insisted I take it. Gave me one of his rings, as well.” Harry makes a loud betrayed noise but still doesn’t lift his head.

“I’ve definitely heard this story before, but didn’t know that was you, man,” Zayn says, poking at Harry’s red face. His cheeks are like cherry tomatoes, now.

“I just like to remind him,” Liam says, eyes going crinkly with his smile. “‘Cause he goes all pink. It’s very cute.”

Laughing loud, Louis drapes himself over as much of Harry’s back as he can and speaks right into his ear. “Hear that? Liam thinks you’re cute!”

It’s with a smile that Harry lifts his head and says, “The marriage is next summer. You’re all invited and we would love a fancy gravy boat.”

“Nick is going to be my plus one, so be prepared to hear that story again, man.”

“A gravy boat or some expensive ear plugs, maybe,” Harry amends. He shoves weakly at Louis’ shoulder before he lets his head tip back onto Liam’s shoulder and closes his eyes again.

With another snort Louis lifts off of Harry and drops back to his spot in front of his drink. “So, Zayn, did you leave anyone behind in Arizona? Besides your family and your dog and probably a bunch of cacti, you know?”

Harry’s eyes snap open quickly, and he untucks himself from Liam so he can glare at Louis. “That’s not nice. Cacti are lovely, and you shouldn’t _pry_.”

“I didn’t say they weren’t. And I’m not prying, Harry. I’m just asking. He can choose not to answer if he wants, right, Zayn?”

Zayn shrugs, swallows against the lump in his throat. He tries to school his tone into something neutral and nonchalant. “She beat me to it. Leaving me, I mean. She left before I even considered the idea. Was, like, a little in love with her. My emotions work fast.”

The boys are quiet. Harry’s forehead creases and Liam’s expression goes all sad puppy dog. “Is that why you’re…?” Louis says, voice uncharacteristically quiet and serious. He makes a gesture with his hands in lieu of finishing the question: _Is that why you’re here?_

Zayn nods and averts his gaze. He doesn’t think he can look at them and manage to speak at the same time, not with the way the expressions on the boys have gone soft and sympathetic. “Home is, like, small. Everyone knows everyone, and there’s no way to keep anything between two people, it seems. I had to go anywhere else.”

After a few tense moments—which Zayn spends staring at one of the bar lights until his vision goes spotty and trying to calm the pounding of his heart in his throat—Louis speaks up again.

“Well, you have us now, right?”

When he looks back to them, their expressions are back to something bearable to look at. Louis’ voice lost that sad quality, at least. Thank God.

“Yeah, I do,” Zayn says back, managing to conjure a smile to his face. This friendship that he’s melted into isn’t a replacement for a relationship, and it would never really be, but it’s nice. These boys are becoming familiar and _good_ in a way that plugs up his leaky heart.

And maybe it’s not quite enough for Zayn to feel like a full person again, right now, but one day it might be.

 

****

 

When Zayn shows up at Liam’s flat the next afternoon, prompted by a cryptic iMessage that just says, _liams ASAP_ , the boys are already gathered on the couch.

“Is this an ambush?” Zayn asks slowly. His heart already feels like it’s beating loud enough for them to hear.

No one says anything, just glancing back and forth between each other, but Harry stands after a few tense moments.

“Mister Zayn Malik,” he starts, completely serious and full of genuine concern. God, Zayn can’t deal with this. Whatever this is. “We, your friends, are worried about you. Please, have a seat.”

Fantastic. The whole ordeal has the feel of an intervention.

Anxiety is clawing its way up his throat by the time Zayn sits down in the chair they’ve pulled out for him. Liam and Louis are taking up the only couch while Harry attempts to look serious nestled in a beanbag chair. Zayn is stuck with a chair from the dining room. It’s wooden and has weird knobs that poke into his back; it’s as if they planned it specifically so Zayn won’t get too comfortable. Although Liam definitely wouldn’t let them do that.

“I’m sure you’re wondering why you’re here,” Harry says, folding his hands together and placing them atop his knees, which are crossed. He’s dressed up for the occasion, of course, with his “nice jeans” and a button-up that’s actually buttoned up. Zayn would laugh if he weren’t so anxious about the rest of this situation.

Zayn doesn’t get a chance to reply before Liam is leaning forward. “We’re just worried you’re unhappy. Harry here is being a bit overdramatic about the whole thing.”

“ _Hey_ ,” Harry frowns, dragging out the vowels in the way that he does when he’s mock-offended.

Louis pipes up, then. Quick, to the point, and a bit harsh. “According to Liam, he hasn’t seen you chat up a girl in, like, _months_ , Zayn. We see you eyeing them up but even when they flirt with you, you never initiate anything. It’s bullshit and we were wondering what your deal is—”

“—we were just wondering if something was bothering you,” Liam interrupts. “Jesus _Christ_ , Louis. Have some tact next time.”

“I didn’t ask him if he had an STI, Liam! I think I’m being plenty tactful.”

“Just because it could have been worse doesn’t mean that what you said is _fine_.”

And, well, okay. Tactlessness aside, he gets why they’re confused. Zayn has seen Harry’s worried stares, of course, but he hadn’t exactly realized that it was a _group_ concern. It seems to be, at least, with the way they’re all looking at him.

“Just because I don’t sleep with people doesn’t mean anything is wrong,” Zayn says. He frowns down into his lap, because looking at them all is just too much. Too intense. “Your concern is misplaced. This isn’t something to worry about.”

A loud laugh that obviously isn’t from a place of amusement bursts from Louis. “But that’s the thing! It _usually_ wouldn’t mean anything is wrong. It doesn’t matter if you’re into having sex with people or not—it's totally fine either way—but every time someone approaches you, you get all quiet and broody.” Louis sighs, continues more softly, “You reject them and then mope the rest of the night, man, and that’s what isn’t normal. Whether you want to date them or sleep with them or whatever, you never do. It’s—it’s self-destructive, or something, Zayn. You’re doing this to yourself, it seems, and we don’t get it.”

“We just want to understand,” Liam simplifies. Harry nods along in agreement.

“It’s not—It’s like—” God, he can’t word this right. Zayn scrubs at his eyes, vision still a bit fuzzy from sleep. “It’s not that I don’t want to, like, go on dates. Be in relationships, whatever. It’s just not what other people want. Not the ones that are interested, at least.”

That’s met with silence.

“So,” Harry says, stops. His mouth opens and pauses for a moment before he snaps it shut and starts again. “So, when people talk you up, you say no even though you want to say yes. And, like.” Another pause. “That’s because you think they don’t want more with you, even though they haven’t said anything? You don’t want to get your heart broken.”

Zayn shrugs. It sounds more pathetic when Harry says it like that. His cheeks must be burning red.

“Not everyone is up for fucks and chucks, man. Like, at least half aren’t. It’s just not probable for them all to be,” Louis says, matter-of-fact. Liam mutters, _language_ , under his breath.

“People don’t think I’m serious, though,” Zayn replies, actively having to work for it not to come out as a whine. “Like, they think _I’m_ only up for one night stands.”

Liam places his hand gingerly on Zayn’s knee now, as if he’s afraid Zayn will snap if he presses too hard. “Have you told any of them that you are serious? The people you want to get to know better, I mean?”

“They don’t believe me. They think I’m just some petty asshole who wants to get into their pants on a regular basis. Because I… look a certain way, give off _that vibe_ , or something.” It’s why things with Perrie didn’t work out. Zayn’s heart throbs painfully.

“You are really hot,” Louis agrees. He leans back into the couch, seemingly re-evaluating his view, now. And, well. That’s only sort of what Zayn meant, but all right.

“But I’m not, like, too much so. It’s not like my looks mean I’m not up for a relationship. I’m not, like, above people, but that doesn’t stop people from assuming that I think I am. It’s just frustrating, so I avoid those encounters altogether, if I can.”

“That’s all we needed to know, Zayn,” Harry says. He’s off the beanbag, now, scooting across the rug on his hands and knees. “We can help you, even! We all have to know some nice, non-judgmental people you can meet.”

“Blind dates!” Louis crows suddenly. He sounds elated and it’s terrifying.

He’d rather be alone than have his friends present him to people like he’s a used car. “ _Hey, this here is Zayn! A common misbelief is that he isn’t into relationships, but in reality, he’s all for it! Would you like to take this sad sap for a spin?_ _”_ No, thank you.

“That’s fine, guys, really. I don’t need to be your pity case—”

“Whoa, _no_ ,” Liam shuts him down. “This isn’t about pity. We’ll just, like. Pool our brains together and try to think of some people who we think you would like. That’s all we’ll do, if you want. Or if you don’t, then we won’t. Your choice, promise.”

When Liam says it like that, all genuinely kind and earnest, it doesn’t sound as bad. Just a few dates wouldn’t be so horrible. Especially if the person had to be approved by all three of them. He feels uncomfortable handing the reins fully over to Louis, if he’s honest, but Zayn finds himself compelled into trusting their combined judgment. Friends don’t set their friends up with bad people, right? They’re just looking out for him. That’s all.

Something must show on his face, because Louis pounces on him immediately. “Oh, please, man! I have got some perfect people in mind. What are you into? Because let me tell you about this one girl, she’s got some _amazing_ ti-”

“Okay, okay,” Zayn agrees. They all look satisfied then, and they stop talking, finally. He would’ve said anything to get them to stop. “ _Okay_. I only need them to be nice people. You can set me up with nice people, whatever.”

Harry pats his cheek with this huge smile on his face, as if receiving the blessing to set Zayn up on blind dates made his day. “Oh, I just can’t wait to have a proper discussion about all this. I know of so many people that would be perfect for you, I know it. There are, like, _so many_ possibilities…” His rambling gets quieter as he walks into the kitchen around the corner, until Zayn can’t decipher his words anymore.

“Bring back some alcohol!” Louis yells after him, stretching out so his heels are digging into Liam’s thighs.

It’s only two in the afternoon, but Harry comes back with bottles of beer and coolers tucked between his fingers on both hands. Liam makes a disapproving face but accepts the Smirnoff Harry offers without much hesitation.

It’s surprising to Zayn how relieved he feels to voice the thoughts that have been plaguing his mind for the past year. His shoulders relax for the first time in ages, and as he takes a long pull from the bottle, he does his very best not to worry about what his friends have in store for him.

 

****

 

Zayn shuts the door softly behind him as he enters his apartment. The light flicks on without him flipping the switch, and there’s Harry. He’s dragged Zayn’s desk chair into the middle of the entranceway, and he spins around so that he’s facing the door now. The desk chair is old and squeaks as it turns, ruining the mood that Harry was trying to make. He’s got Zayn’s cat forcibly sat in his lap. Tiger looks disgruntled, further messing up the picture.

He shouldn’t have given out his key to Liam, because it was inevitable that Harry would get his hands on it.

“So, you’re still up, and you’re in my apartment,” Zayn deadpans. Harry reluctantly lets Tiger go when he hisses, and then adjusts his robe —which, _really_?—before he gestures for Zayn to start talking.

He sighs before relenting, sitting himself down on the floor to yank off his boots. “It was a bust. She was really, um, touchy,” he trails off, tucking his boots off to the side before rubbing harshly at his face. He waves his hand dismissively and hopes Harry gets that he doesn’t want to elaborate, because, well. A real fucking mess is what the date was.

“ _Ohhh_ ,” Harry says, lurching repeatedly so that the chair rolls forward in jerks. “She was Louis’ pick. Just by the way. He really thought you’d hit it off.”

Zayn sighs again in response. “Yeah, I know. ‘S all right.” He thinks about her earnest face, how it had steadily made him more and more uncomfortable as the night went on. He thinks about how, a week back, Harry had sent him out with this girl he met one time that he was positive was just _perfect_ for Zayn. She was nice, had this huge, gorgeous smile. It’s a shame they didn’t click. It’s a shame he hasn’t clicked with _anyone_ the boys have set him up with.

It’s blind date number six and he’s starting to give up.

“If it makes you feel any better,” Harry pipes up, “It’s my turn next, and I’m pretty sure he’s a winner. We saved him for last. Y’know, cause he’s the best.”

“He?” Zayn asks, narrowing his eyes slightly. He doesn’t remember telling the boys about that. It wasn’t a thing that he felt the need to mention. “I didn’t think you’d be picking other guys for me, like. Just judging by the past five.”

Harry’s eyes widen slightly. “Oh, _shit_ , right, sorry. I, um, didn’t think you’d mind and then I just completely forgot to check with you. I just really think you two would be a good fit. If you don’t want to do it there won’t be hard feelings. Niall would be all right. God, I’m so sorry.”

After he stops talking, he still looks a bit worried, like he’s waiting for Zayn to blow up at him. Which, of course, is ridiculous. “I’ve dated a few guys before. It’s not, like. Uncharted territory, you know.”

“Oh, good,” Harry breathes out in a huff. His cheeks puff out, fish-like. “I got a bit ahead of myself on that one, to be fair. I just _really_ know you’ll like him.”

“Doesn’t matter. I don’t mind,” Zayn murmurs back. “As long as he’s nice, I’m sure we can be friends at the very least. I trust your judgment, sort of.”

At that, Harry grins, too big. “Oh, believe me. I think you two will click. Your date… It’s going to be out of this _world_.”

 

****

 

The next day, about ten minutes before he’s planning to leave to meet Niall for their date, Harry texts him.

_****Harry**** : Come to my place? Can introduce you to Niall here. x_

Zayn pauses at that, standing with his fingers hovering over his phone keyboard. Usually—or, at least, on the last dates he went on—his dates just text him the time and place and what they’ll be wearing, and they meet at a restaurant. As close as they’ve become, Zayn’s not particularly up for Harry tagging along. Or, worse, making innuendos and jokes before they can safely make it out the door.

Nonetheless, Zayn replies: _okay_ , and then quickly pulls on a different shirt. He debates bringing a scarf, even though it's only the beginning of October, but then decides against it, since the only one he has is this massive knitted thing that more or less swallows his entire torso. Tourist isn’t a good look on anyone, really. Zayn would rather be freezing.

He’s barely knocked on the door when Harry yanks it open.

“You look so sharp,” Harry gushes, reaching out a hand to smooth at Zayn’s collar before redirecting and smacking at his cheek. “Clean-shaven and everything. Very nice. Unnecessary, but nice.”

Oh. “Unnecessary how?” Zayn questions. He bats Harry’s hands away from where he’s trying to undo his top buttons. “He doesn’t need to see _all_ my tats, Harry. It’s the first date.”

Harry deflates, allowing his hands to be knocked away before he speaks again. “Your date is going to be over Skype. I have it set up in the dining room.”

“Wait, what?” Harry is pulling him through the foyer without looking back, and without giving any indication that he heard the question. Zayn still has one shoe on. “Why? Is he forty? Or in another country, or something?”

Harry laughs loudly at that. It sounds only a little forced. “No, no. Not forty. He just doesn’t live that close, you know. I mean, it’s no country away but it’s, like, a bit of a drive. This is much easier for him.”

A short, disappointed noise rumbles out of Zayn’s throat without him meaning it to. Harry turns back around immediately, using his grip on Zayn’s hand to pull him into his chest.

“Aw, Zee, I’m sorry. I really thought this was going to work out a little better than it is. His webcam is broken, too, just to top it off.”

Ah, this is great. Of course this is just his luck.

“I could have drove,” is all Zayn can think to say into Harry’s shoulder.

“Nah,” Harry says quietly, finally pulling back after a long pause. “You know how the roads get when it’s all rainy and dark like this.”

“I’m fine with it. I can handle some rain,” Zayn argues. “There’s still time, if he doesn’t mind me being a bit late. How far away are we talking?”

Harry looks offended, eyes wide and brows scrunched. “Don’t talk about leaving when I made dinner! You can’t leave when I’ve made you romantic dinner.”

 _God_ , this guy. Reluctantly, Zayn nods, says a quiet, “Well, go on, then,” and allows Harry to tug him further into the flat. Sure enough, Harry’s got his laptop sitting in the middle of the small dining room table, a plate of stir-fry sitting in front of it.

“Stir-fry doesn’t constitute as a romantic dinner,” Zayn mumbles, just to be difficult. He sits down, though, when he notices the bottle of red wine just off to the side. It looks expensive, and if that’s the only thing Zayn gets out of this date, he’ll take it.

“Now, I’ve signed in with your Skype account and added Niall. You just need to open up a window and start typing.” Harry takes the seat across from Zayn, now holding his own plate of stir fry in one hand and two empty wine glasses in the other. Zayn never actually gave Harry his account information to use, but he’s going to ignore that for now. Bigger fish to fry.

Before anything, Zayn goes into his settings and changes his password. _tiger_ in all lowercase really was “too weak” of a password, if Harry could guess it. He adds in some numbers and multiple capital letters just to stall for time, idly thinks that he should put this in a note on his phone before he forgets it. Harry stares at him all the while, taking way too long to uncork the wine bottle.

“Okay,” Zayn finally says, opening up his contacts list. Harry jolts up and is right there behind him, looming over his shoulder before Zayn can register the names in front of him. “Where is he?”

Harry drops his chin down on Zayn’s shoulder, flicking his finger up and down in the air, indicating that Zayn should scroll. “He’s under ‘N.’ Also, since I had to get your Skype name from Liam, I have taken the liberty of adding Louis, Nick, and I to your contacts.”

“Who is Nick? I don’t know a Nick,” Zayn says, dragging his cursor in a circle around the new avatar, which is some pretentious looking guy in a coat with a leopard print collar. He wants to delete the contact, but then Harry speaks up.

“You don’t know a Niall, either. But you should. You should know a Niall and a Nick,” Harry says, voice sounding slightly strained. “Keep scrolling, you’re only at ‘G.’”

Zayn turns to look at Harry to find his eyes big and his expression earnest, and oh, good. He’s finally uncorked the wine. Zayn needs more wine for this.

“Give me that,” he murmurs, reaching towards the bottle.

Too slowly, apparently, because Harry pulls away. He tucks the bottle into his chest and shakes his head petulantly. Like a child. Children shouldn’t have alcohol, much less _good_ alcohol.

“No,” Harry says, firm. “I want this to work out. You need to make a good impression, Malik. Niall means a lot to me, and I think he’ll to mean a lot to you, too.”

The words settle warmly in Zayn’s stomach, then, and he stops grabbing for the bottle. Harry doesn’t seem to be the type of person to want a couple to work out for bragging rights. He’s too bright and optimistic and romantic to want anything other than for people to be in love.

It’s infuriating, really. Especially when Zayn just wants to be drunk.

“Fine,” he says. “But I want some soon, please. Haven’t had good wine in forever.”

Finally, it seems, Harry’s forehead wrinkles smooth out, and the wide grin is back on his face. “All right, deal. Did you want me to coach you through it? I have this great joke that I always open with, and it works like a charm. You can use it, if you want. Guaranteed laugh.”

Zayn really doesn’t want either of those things, and he makes shooing gestures with his free hand until Harry goes back to his side of the table. “Thanks, Harry, but I’m fine.” As he speaks, Zayn finally reaches the “N”s in his contacts. Harry definitely added more people than he said he did, since it took him this long just to get halfway through the list. _Jesus_.

The avatar is a picture of a man, presumably Niall, with another smaller blonde boy standing in front of him. They’re both holding bags full of candy and are dressed as astronauts. They’re cute. _Niall_ is cute.

“Does Niall have a son?” Zayn asks, fingers hovering over the keyboard.

Across the table, Harry shakes his head, mouth full of asparagus when he says, “No. The Halloween picture is of him and his nephew last year.”

Zayn double clicks on the avatar.

This is fine. Everything is fine. He clicks on the _Type a message here_ box and before he can second guess himself, sends one.

_****Zayn**** : Hey, I’m Zayn. I’m here for our date._

For a few seconds, he just stares at the screen, tapping his fingers lightly against the table. Harry’s voice—“ _You’re fine, Zayn. You’re doing fine._ ”—barely registers in his head. The text _Niall is typing…_ pops up and Zayn wishes that he’d been more adamant about the alcohol. Wine is sounding really good right about now, and Harry looks as relaxed as Zayn wishes he was feeling. Maybe that’s just Harry himself, though.

_****Niall**** : Hi! I’m Niall._

_****Niall**** : Is Harry hogging the wine?_

Zayn glances up at Harry. He’s sitting with his knees tucked up to his chest, the bottle leaning upright against his thighs and his shins pressing against the table. The glass in front of him is two-thirds empty.

_****Zayn**** : Yes, he is. How did you know that?_

_****Niall**** : Told him to get you some nice wine, since I can’t. Also, I’ve been to dinner parties with him before, so I know he hogs the stuff._

Zayn's eyes narrow at that, and he glances over the laptop screen. “Niall says to give me _my_ wine.”

Harry’s entire face falls, glass halfway to his lips. “But it’s such good wine. I like it. Tell Niall that.”

“I won’t tell Niall anything. Top yourself off, then hand it over,” Zayn compromises. He doesn’t give Niall an answer right away, in favour of making sure Harry doesn’t fill his glass right to the brim, like Zayn’s seen him do on two separate occasions.

_****Zayn**** : I have the wine now. Thank you Niall._

Zayn sends a smiley, but it sends as this large, animated thing that he definitely would _not_ have sent if he had known that it would turn into _this_. He doesn’t particularly like the look of it. For some reason, it has him scrambling to type out another message.

_****Zayn**** : These aren’t very nice emojis._

_****Niall**** : You picky about your emojis eh? haha :~)_

_****Niall**** : Same tho I hate the skype emojis ! When you put a little squiggle nose on them it doesnt animate :~)_

Zayn snorts a little. They’re talking about _emojis_. On a _date_. In his peripheral vision, he sees Harry’s head pop up, sees him grin in delight.

“Make a group chat! I want to know what you’re laughing about,” Harry exclaims, eyes bright enough to make Zayn nervous.

“What? No. You aren’t coming on our date.”

His computer makes that bubbly Skype noise that it does, and Zayn looks down to a new message in a new log.

_****Harry**** _added_ _****Zayn**** and ****Niall**** to the conversation.__

_****Harry**** : :D_

“Wh— No,” Zayn says. The name of the conversation changes to _a date with Zayn and Niall_ before Zayn leaves it altogether.

Harry makes an offended noise, drops his phone down on the table with a pout. “I just want to see you guys fall in love.”

Really, what kind of rom-com does Harry think he’s directing, here? “You don’t get to watch. You get to finish your glass of wine and mind your own business while I go on a Skype date with Niall. _Alone_. Your job is done, now let it go.”

“So you like him,” Harry says, pout quickly shifting into a grin.

Zayn shrugs. He doesn’t need to give Harry any more information, really. He’s doing a fine enough job making stuff up on his own. “Maybe,” is what he settles on in reply, because Niall uses squiggles as noses in his emoticons and he bought Zayn expensive wine, indirectly. He’s cute, so sue him.

_****Zayn**** : So, are you eating romantic stir-fry also?_

“I knew you’d hit it off! I’ll tell the boys. They’re going to be so excited.” Harry takes out his phone and starts tapping away even as Zayn waves him off.

“Too soon to tell,” Zayn says quietly, before turning back to the laptop.

_****Niall**** : How about an orange? A romantic orange?_

When Zayn looks up at Niall’s avatar, at his big cheesy grin and bright eyes, he feels another smile tugging at his lips. He ducks his head a bit behind the laptop so Harry doesn’t do something horrible like pinch his cheeks or gush, again.

It’s still a bit too soon to tell—he wasn’t lying—but he has a good feeling about it.

 

****

 

_**Harry** : We found Zayn his soul mate!_

_****Louis** : jesus fucking christ**_

_****Liam**** : ??? isnt ths a good thing_

_****Liam**** : z i didnt thnk u were a soul mate kinda gy_

_****Harry**** : Of course he is! Isn't everyone?_

_****Louis**** : oh yea. im sure hes planning their future together as we speak_

_****Louis**** : white wedding and a picket fence_

_****Louis**** : the whole works_

_****Harry**** : I don’t like your sarcasm._

The messages ping in one after the other, and Zayn turns the notifications for the group chat off without gratifying them with a response.

 

****

 

“You didn’t even _speak_ to each other and Harry here thinks he’s found your soulmate?” Louis cackles, leaning heavily against Liam’s shoulder. “Oh, God, I’m tearing up, I think. You haven’t even heard his voice, Zayn. You’ve had a singular conversation in text form. There’s _no way_ —”

“I’m aware,” Zayn says shortly. Maybe, he thinks, he should be offended by this. Louis is directing a fair amount of jabs at him, but Zayn can’t really find it in himself to care. He can’t decide if it’s because he’s grown immune to Louis’ teasing or if he just doesn’t want him to dig any deeper.

The thing is, Niall and Zayn had Skyped well after Harry fell asleep with his head on the table. There was lots of talk about food, which ones were suitable for romantic dinners and which ones were not. (Stir-fry was deemed a _maybe_ but oranges were a solid _no_ ). Niall seemed ridiculously endeared at the idea that Zayn dressed up for him. They talked about Zayn’s job, and Niall asked him questions about art and about Zayn’s own art. Then Niall’s internet started to get spotty and Harry started snoring, so Zayn shook Harry awake and they decided to call it a night.

Not like Zayn would ever tell Louis that, though.

They parted reluctantly, but with plans to Skype again at the same time in five days, since Niall works odd, late hours.

“I never said we were soulmates,” Zayn continues, not even bothering to stop his eyes from rolling. “Harry over-exaggerated.”

Louis lets out another sharp bark of laughter. “Harry says you talked for three hours.”

And… well. “Okay, so that’s true,” Zayn says. “But that doesn’t mean—”

“Your date with Daisy was, like, an hour and a half and you actually _liked_ her,” Harry says, matter-of-fact, with a wide smile on his face. Excitement is practically radiating off of him. The room might even be warmer because of it.

“Okay! So, I like him,” Zayn says. Hopefully, they can’t see the blood in his cheeks. “It’s not a crime. It’s the goal. You guys set me up, so you’re not allowed to laugh at me when you get one right. It’s a rule, as of now.”

Louis kicks out his leg, jabs Liam in the ribs. “That’s not a _rule_.”

“It’s, like. Just—don’t,” Zayn mumbles. He doesn’t mean to come off as overly defensive, but he is, judging by the way Louis’ eyebrows have been steadily rising every time Zayn speaks. There’s a little bud of fondness growing in his chest for this boy, for Niall, and Louis is making him feel really fucking stupid about it. “You don’t always need to meet someone or even see them to make a connection, man. It was just a nice date, is all. We’ll figure out meeting face to face soon.”

“Yeah,” Liam chips in, finally. “Leave him be, Lou. They’ll meet as soon as Niall’s work hours go back to normal, right? No big deal in talking before then.”

Out of the corner of his eye, Zayn can see Harry’s eyes go wide.

“Oh, _really_? Hey, Harry, what do you think about that?” Louis’ voice is biting.

Harry hums loudly, taking a worryingly long pull from his bottle before answering. “I think… I think that it’s good that Niall and Zayn get to chat this way before they meet. Work, for Niall, is like. Really time-consuming, from what I hear. He doesn’t have much time to spare. Wacky schedule. Um, yeah. No biggie, right?”

Louis taps his fingernails on his bottle as he assesses Harry. “Right. I mean, I guess.”

The awkward pause makes Zayn’s skin crawl, and he’s not exactly sure what’s going on, now. As long as they stop making fun of him for enjoying a date that they were excited to send him on, Zayn thinks he’s fine with it.

“I’ll meet him soon, and then you all can leave me alone,” Zayn says shortly, trying to convey that he’s done with the current topic. “Lou, do you have any of that lemonade stuff?”

Finally, Louis snaps out of his stare-down with Harry and gets up. He rolls his eyes as he says, “No, but I have rum and I have coke, so that’s what you’re getting.”

Louis makes his way into the kitchen and Harry lets out a soft sigh of relief before shuffling over to Zayn. “Louis was high at our date conference, is why he’s all confused. Weed does it. I think most of what we said just flew right over his head, in all honesty.”

Zayn shrugs, patting at Harry’s shoulder. “Sounds like my kind of meeting, to be honest,” he says lightly, and Harry’s face finally pulls into a grin again.

“We’ll be sure to invite you next time. Now, did you want to pick the movie, or did you want me to put in _Titanic_ , again?”

That spurs Zayn into getting up, because he doesn’t think he can make it through that movie for the third week in a row. “No, no. I’ll pick something.” He takes out _X-Men: First Class_ and pops it into the player.

When Louis comes back into the living room—with Zayn’s rum and coke, made way too strong for his taste—he rolls his eyes at Harry’s horrible jokes like he usually does, and it’s as if the tension was never there to begin with.

 

****

 

Harry pops up at his door right before his date with Niall is supposed to start.

“I think I forgot a shirt here. Do you mind?” Harry asks, smile sickly sweet and full of _bullshit_.

“You did not, but fine,” Zayn says, only because he doesn’t want to make Niall wait any longer. “Just don’t move too much around, yeah? I hate when things get too scattered.”

Harry gasps loudly. Too loud to be genuine. “Wait, what is this? Romantic dinner?” It’s stir-fry. “You have the wine out again? Oh, my goodness. It’s your date with Niall! I totally forgot!” Harry exclaims, grin too wide on his face. He really can’t act for shit.

“Again, you did not. I’m already five minutes late because my fucking hair wouldn’t cooperate, so can you just get on with pretending to look for something that you know isn’t here?”

Zayn’s already moved back into the living room, so Harry has to yell out to him from the entranceway when he responds. “Of course!” Harry’s voice booms, followed by a series of loud thuds and quiet cursing. Zayn decides not to ask. Hopefully nothing is broken.

It’s ten minutes after eight, then, when Zayn finally starts up Skype. There’s a message there waiting, just a simple _Hey, Zayn :~)_ from Niall.

_****Zayn**** : Hey :~) Sorry I’m late. Harry’s fault._

_****Niall**** : Again ? Haha_

_****Zayn**** : Aha hes pretending to look for a shirt he “forgot” in my room_

_****Niall**** : What a shit Liar_

Harry stumbles up behind him, right on cue. “ _Hey_ , that’s not very nice,” he says into Zayn’s shoulder, all slow and drawn out so he knows Harry’s kidding. “Tell him I say hi.”

“No, go away,” Zayn says back, swatting at Harry’s cheek. “Go away, you menace.” Harry pouts in response, moves around to sit on the other side of the coffee table. The bottle of wine Zayn got is the same brand that Harry bought for Zayn and Niall’s first date. Harry looks pleased about it.

_****Zayn**** : Harry says hi_

_****Zayn**** : and he’s drinking my wine again._

_****Niall**** : !!!!!_

_****Niall**** : Fuckin bastard !_

“Do you always style your hair for these dates?” Harry asks, scrolling through something on his phone. “Sweet, but a lot of wasted effort, since he can't even see you. Also, you were running, like, ten minutes late before I even got here, man. Don't blame me for your lateness.”

_****Zayn**** : I’m about to kick him out._

A loud _ding_ sounds from his phone, and Harry makes a pleased noise in his throat. “Louis is on his way up.”

There’s no way Zayn can attempt to converse normally with Niall if Louis is in the room. “ _You_ aren’t even invited on this date. What makes you think—?”

“It’s okay! We aren’t here to infringe,” Harry says, shrugging and pouring himself a glass. “We’re just meeting here before we go to meet Liam at the bar. Just because you skip out on guys’ night doesn’t mean we all skip out. Louis won’t let us.”

“Are you…” Zayn waves his hand vaguely, “here to pregame, then?”

Harry tilts his head to the side and makes a noise that could mean anything, but doesn’t look up from his phone. Tweeting, probably. “He’ll be up here in, like, a few seconds and then we’ll be out of your perfectly styled hair. Pinky promise.”

There’s a knock on the door, and Zayn watches Harry haul himself off of the floor, taking the glass of wine with him, and head towards the door. Which just proves how much Harry has made himself at home.

_****Niall**** : Good ! don’t need him distracting you from me when i’m wooing you ;~)_

Loud laughter sounds, and then Louis is right in front of him. “What’s got you all smiley?” Louis asks. Harry’s still drinking Niall’s—Zayn’s?—wine. “Did Niall send you a naughty photo, or something? I can’t tell if you’re blushing.”

“ _No_ , Louis.”

Harry slurps loudly. Gross. “But you’re on your fifth date, right? Sixth date? You like him. He likes you.”

Zayn groans. “That doesn’t mean naked pictures. It just means we like each other. That’s it.”

Louis _ahh_ _’_ s. “But you would _like_ naked pictures.”

“I’m not gratifying that with a response,” Zayn says, tugging his laptop closer to his torso. Louis is staring at him like he’s an open book. It’s unsettling, to say the least.

_****Zayn**** : ;~) aha they are on their way out now_

_****Niall**** : thats what i like to hear :~)_

“You look like a fucking idiot,” Louis says. “Smiling at a laptop.”

“He’s _endeared_ ,” Harry protests, sending Louis a dirty look. “It’s _cute_.”

“It’s weird. People don’t just smile at their screens that genuinely, especially if they’re just looking at messages. It’s not normal. This isn’t our broody Zayn,” Louis says. “You’ve created a monster. A sappy, smiley monster.”

“I’ve set up soulmates! He’s falling in love!” Maybe the couch will swallow him up if Zayn wishes hard enough.

Zayn looks up to watch Louis smack Harry on the shoulder, keeping his hand there so he can start tugging them towards the door. “Liam is going to grill us if we’re late, and he gets all annoyed with me even if it’s your fault, so, come on.”

Harry frowns exaggeratedly, like the last thing he wants to do is leave. (It’s number one on Zayn’s list of wants, currently.) “All right, okay. Have fun.”

“Tell Niall we miss his ugly mug,” Louis yells as they’re halfway out, grin wide, “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t!”

_****Zayn**** : Louis says to not do anything he wouldn’t_

_****Niall**** : Ah so nothing is off the table then_

 

****

 

_****Zayn**** : so how do you feel about pets?_

_****Niall**** : hm. dogs or cats?_

_****Zayn**** : either or. both, really. i have a cat_

_****Niall**** : they r cute ! dunno how to take care of either but i like both_

_****Zayn**** : :~)_

_****Niall**** : do i get points for that ? ha ha ;~)_

_****Zayn**** : honestly? you already won_

“Aw, you guys are cute,” Harry says, smiling at him with his hands folded under his chin. Today he’s dragged Liam along with him to sit in on Zayn’s date. Liam is currently frowning at his textbook at Zayn’s dining room table, nodding along occasionally to Harry’s babbling.

“You can’t even see the conversation, Harry. How could you know we’re cute?” Zayn asks.

Harry shrugs and starts switching around the lids of Liam’s highlighters. “You’re all smiley. Niall probably is, too.”

“Wish I could see that,” Zayn says, half to himself. There isn’t an option to ask Niall for a video chat, still, and it’s disappointing. “Where does he work, anyways, that doesn’t leave him with enough free time to buy a webcam?”

“Um,” Harry’s eyebrows furrow, smile dropping for the first time since he walked into Zayn’s apartment. “He’s, like, an engineer. Yeah. He designs some planes and satellites and stuff. Makes sure they work properly and all that.”

“Ahh.” Zayn turns back to his laptop, types out a, _so, harry tells me you’re an engineer? dont know much about that but it sounds quite cool_.

Suddenly, the green circle next to Niall’s avatar goes white, and he’s offline. It’s not unusual, since Niall’s internet connection is truly horrible, and average at best.

Harry takes another look at him, and frowns exaggeratedly. “Aw, why the long face?” He pauses, and then starts giggling to himself. “Wait, did I ever tell you that joke I made? About this giraffe—”

Zayn shuts his laptop and rolls his eyes. “Yeah, I heard it. Let’s go out, yeah?”

 

****

 

Niall doesn’t get back to him until the next day.

_****Niall**** : so whatd Harry tell u about my job then ?_

_****Zayn**** : you design like satelites and stuff? sounds p cool_

_****Niall**** : ah thanks ha i love it _

_****Zayn**** : thats awesome man_

_****Niall**** : :~)_

Niall doesn’t ever talk too much about it, often sending just a winking emoji and _shh its top secret stuff_.

Sometimes Zayn will ask about the things Niall is working on, and he has to Google some of the terminology just to get what he’s saying. Zayn still doesn’t quite get it all, but the explanations Niall gives usually end up making things sound even more confusing, so they don’t talk about it too much. And that’s the end of that.

 

****

 

“So you’re really into this, huh?”

Zayn turns his head so he can look at Liam down by his feet. He’s still looking at the TV, where _Criminal Minds_ is on, volume low, and the only indication he spoke is the gentle tap he gives Zayn’s shin on his lap.

“What? Yeah, Morgan and Garcia are cute—”

“I didn’t mean—” Liam squeezes Zayn’s knee sharply, giggling while he shakes his head. “I didn’t mean the show, I meant Niall. You’re into him, right?”

Blinking slowly, Zayn focuses his blurry eyes back on the screen. “I mean, yeah. He’s great to talk to and I want to talk to him, like, all the time. So I think it could work out, yes.”

“You aren’t bothered that you haven’t, like, looked him in the eye, or anything? You’ve been talking for like two weeks, right?” Liam asks, forehead crinkled. It’s sweet, Zayn thinks. How worried he gets.

Zayn props himself up on one elbow so he can lean forward and smooth the wrinkles out with his finger. “Careful. Your face will get stuck like that,” he says, sending Liam one of the cheesiest grins he can manage.

Liam scowls, shoving at Zayn’s shoulder so he collapses back against the armrest and his hand falls away. “You’re avoiding the question. So, I’m going to assume it’s a no.”

Zayn shrugs, trying to come off as noncommittal, casual. But Liam looks at him with pity and squeezes his knee, so he doesn’t think it worked.

 

****

 

_****Niall**** : okay. so what’s your favourite colour?_

_****Zayn**** : um green :B_

_****Zayn**** : favorite emoji?_

_****Niall**** : oh god man its got t be the pints_

_****Niall**** : whats urs?_

_****Zayn**** : tough but i rly like the winky tongue out one_

_****Niall**** : classic ! ha_

Louis leaps over the back of the couch, landing hard with an elbow in Zayn’s gut. “Sexting Niall, are we?”

“No! Christ, Lou, get off,” Zayn says, wheezy, shoving at Louis but not actually making him budge.

“For the record, like, this is the weirdest sexting I’ve ever seen.”

Finally, Zayn lands a jab hard in Louis’ side, prompting him to curl in on himself, half on top of the keyboard. “We aren’t sexting. We’re just talking. Stop taking my spare key.”

Louis shrugs, “Still weird,” and rolls over so he’s off of Zayn’s lap.

_****Zayn**** : cxbjhkvnzzxfkzlwqtfdrFCD_

_****Niall**** : ???_

Jesus Christ.

_****Zayn**** : sorry lou is being an ass_

_****Niall**** : as per eh ? ha ;~)_

Louis lets out an indignant noise beside him. Then, he’s shoving his way back into Zayn’s space. “Tell Niall he’s uninvited from my birthday party. Really hit him where it hurts.”

“I’ll boycott if you do,” Zayn says easily, shrugging and pushing at Louis’ shoulder. Personal space, Zayn has discovered, isn’t a concept his new friends understand.

Louis’ eyes narrow. “Fine, whatever. But just because I think you get great gifts.”

“Whatever you say.”

_****Zayn**** : aha definitely as per usual :~)_

_****Niall**** : tell im if he bugs you i’ll take him out_

“I’d like to see him try,” Louis scoffs. “If you two can even drag yourselves away from each other long enough. By then he’ll be back so you’ll probably just have your tongue down his throat. Or something else down his throat. Because you two are gross.”

_****Zayn**** : i stopped him from uninviting you to his bday_

_****Zayn**** : but i think we just shouldnt go_

“Ass,” Louis says, pinning Zayn’s hands with his forearm and getting his own hands on the keyboard.

_****Zayn**** : jst sayin zayn totally has a small dck_

_****Zayn**** : the eggplant emoji is actual size ftr_

“Get out of my house.” Zayn finally frees his hands, shoving Louis hard enough, this time, that he falls off the couch. “ _Jesus_ , this was supposed to be a date. Fucking dick. Lock the door behind you, too.”

_****Niall**** : hi lou_

_****Zayn**** : that isnt true_

_****Zayn**** : im gna change my locks tonight i swear to god_

 

****

 

Zayn admits to himself that he’s totally invested in the relationship around four weeks in.

He’s been talking to Niall at every chance he can get, even if that isn’t more than once every five days. Their conversations aren’t all dates necessarily—just little _hello_ ’s and _how are you?_ _’_ s whenever they both happen to be free—but there have been enough simultaneous dinners between the both of them that Zayn feels like something has finally clicked into place. As much as he didn’t want to get his heart invested in someone he hadn’t actually seen in person, he thinks it might already be too late.

“When are you actually going to meet up, man? It’s been a few weeks,” Liam says, glancing to Louis with a look on his face that Zayn reads as him willing Louis to jump in. To bug Zayn until he spills his feelings. Liam’s scrunched up to the side of the couch, Louis having splayed himself across as much of the surface area as possible.

They broke in, sleepy and grumpy but determined, at 7:45 AM after receiving the knowledge that Zayn and Niall were having a date of sorts. Or, more accurately, Louis grabbed Zayn’s key off of Liam again and dragged him over. Nosy, he is.

“Um, dunno,” Zayn tugs the laptop a little closer. Their Skype conversation is open in front of him, the little bubble that says _Niall is typing…_ hovering over the text box. Zayn doesn’t wait for him to finish the message before he sends one of his own.

_****Zayn**** : When did you say your webcam is getting fixed?_

“I’m asking now,” he says, rubbing at his face. Why Niall was only available to talk at eight in the morning today was beyond him. And, shit, Zayn’s really in deep if he’s waking up this early for a date.

_****Niall**** : Only a few more days until it gets here! Ordered one special, ha :~)_

“Turn that frown upside down. Before it gets stuck,” Louis says, getting up to flop over Zayn’s lap, poking at his cheeks and forcibly moving them upwards. Craning his neck, Louis manages to look at the conversation window. Zayn doesn’t bother to try and stop him.

“It’ll be a few days,” Zayn says, for Liam’s benefit.

Louis pats his chin with an awkward, forced laugh before rising to his feet and starting to quickly put on his jacket. “Well, not like you haven’t been a delightful host—”

“You invited yourself, Lou.”

“—but I’ve just realized that it’s nine in the morning, which means Harry is done with yoga. And I would just _love_ to hear all about it. So, um, we’re going to go.” He tugs at Liam’s arm aggressively until he, too, rises from the couch with confused wrinkles on his face.

The room falls silent except for the shuffling noises of Louis trying and failing to drag Liam out of the living room and the bubbly Skype notification that sounds. But Zayn can’t pay attention to his conversation with Niall when Louis’ jaw is clenched, movements jerky like he’s genuinely angry.

“What’s going on?” he asks slowly, setting his laptop off to the side. It’s not that Louis doesn’t have some weird ticks, but even Liam is looking at him with slight alarm. “I can come with you, like—”

“No, no,” Louis brushes off immediately. The heels of his feet are digging into Zayn’s rug and he’s more or less pulling on Liam using his entire body weight. “You hate physical activity and like, stretching and stuff, so we’ll spare you the pain.”

Zayn shakes his head a bit, waves with his hand. “Okay. If you want to keep secrets that’s okay. No need to lie, like,” he says, trailing off, crossing his legs and setting the laptop back onto his lap. “It’s fine.”

_****Niall**** : we’ll see each other soon !_

_****Niall**** : promise :~)_

“No secrets, just yoga,” Louis says. Zayn can tell his jaw is clenched by the strain in his voice.

_****Zayn**** : can’t wait :~)_

He looks up to see Louis sending Liam a look that burns even from where Zayn is sitting on the couch. Liam caves with a loud sigh, then, allowing him to lead them both out of Zayn’s sight.

“But, my shoes. Lou—”

“You have, like, two other pairs, so relax. They’re ugly anyways, Liam.”

 

****

 

_****Niall**** : so the boys haven’t crashed today ?_

_****Zayn**** : not yet at least_

_****Niall**** : we should stop talking about them_

_****Niall**** : just in case they sense we’re talking abt them and show up_

_****Niall**** : like beetlejuice._

Zayn lets out a quiet, airy laugh, not bothering to hold back a grin. No one is here to bug him about it, this time.

_****Zayn**** : well_

_****Zayn**** : Harry Harry Harry._

There’s about a minute where Niall doesn’t respond— in which Zayn leans his head back over the edge of the couch and squints at the door to see if it’s locked—and then Skype bubbles again.

_****Niall**** : ha ha no harry here :~)_

_****Zayn**** : here either aha_

_****Zayn**** : think we r in the clear ;~)_

_****Niall**** : so ive been talking t louis lately_

Zayn’s throat closes up at that. He doesn’t think that any sentence starting out with _I’ve been talking to Louis_ has ever ended well.

_****Zayn**** : ?? and?_

_****Niall**** : do u really light candles during our dinner dates ?_

He groans out loud, dropping his head back with a loud thud. It was _one time_ , and he was in a sappy mood. Harry had just made him watch some sad, dramatic romance movie, so, really, he can hardly be blamed.

_****Zayn**** : Harrys fault i swear_

_****Zayn**** : and it was one time_

_****Niall**** : !! thats cute_

_****Zayn**** : no one has called me cute since I was 14_

_****Zayn**** : m not cute_

_****Niall**** : rly ? because you sound cute_

_****Niall**** : nd you say cute things_

_****Niall**** : nd harry told me you do ur hair for these dates_

_****Niall**** : which is CUTE so point made !_

And now Zayn’s really glad that none of the other boys are here, because his cheeks are aching with the sheer force of his grin, nose scrunching in the way that Liam always coos at him for. Because Niall is sweet and cute and he always tries to “woo” Zayn and it’s just. It’s a lot. Regretfully, he admits to himself that Harry was onto something, here. He looks up at Niall and his nephew in the contact photo, all genuine smiles and sweetness, and something in him settles warmly.

_****Zayn**** : I really cant wait to see you_

 

****

 

Zayn shows up at Liam’s place in response to a cryptic text, again, the night before Niall said his webcam was supposed to arrive. His nerves have been a steady vibration in his stomach since Niall mentioned it. The best nerves, but still nerves.

_****Niall**** : tomorrow ! then i can see you in all ur beauty ;~)_

Zayn sent back _cant wait :~) x_ and couldn’t stop smiling for hours afterward.

The text from Louis in the group chat just says: _liams now. everyone_. and the fact that he used periods is more worrying than anything else. The last time Zayn got a text like this, though, it was to confront him about his horrible lack of a love life and apparent sadness, so, okay, maybe he stalls a bit before leaving his apartment.

Funny enough, when he walks into the living room, he sees that they’ve pulled out the same uncomfortable chair from the dining room for him to sit in. Liam and Louis are seated on the couch, as they were the last time, and one of Harry’s wide-brimmed hats is sitting on top of the beanbag chair, Harry himself not actually present. The only place for Zayn to sit would be the chair or the floor. He opts for the latter.

“So, what’s up?” Zayn asks, crossing his legs. He balances his phone on his thigh, Skype app open on his and Niall’s conversation.

_****Niall**** : so whatcha up to tonight?_

_****Zayn**** : well lou sent me a vague “urgent” text so_

_****Zayn**** : currently at liam’s waiting to be let in on whats so important aha_

_****Niall**** : oooh leme knw how that goes :~)_

_****Zayn**** : will do :~)_

“Well, we’re going to wait for Harry to get here, first, and then we’ll all have a chat. A nice chat,” Louis says, leaning forward and slapping Zayn’s knee once.

“Okay,” Zayn says, switching off his phone and choosing to stare down Liam and Louis.

“So, you and Niall are doing good, yeah?” Liam asks. He sounds uncharacteristically nervous and his voice is at too high of a pitch to come off as casual. When he speaks again, it’s too fast, jittery. “He, uh, he’s getting his webcam soon right? It’s good that you two can finally meet. Happy for you. I’m sure his schedule will clear right up and you’ll meet, like, _not_ on Skype very soon. You’re doing okay, right?”

Louis leans forward so he can smack Liam around the back of the head. It’s hard enough to make Liam’s head jerk forward, a loud slapping sound resonating in the room. “Can you _fucking not_?”

Liam looks nervous and guilty, hands wringing together where they’re in his lap. On the other hand, Louis looks very pissed. Zayn imagines fire behind his eyes, dark smoke puffing out his ears.

Which reminds him: he needs a cigarette.

“I, uh.” The pack is a bit crushed and almost empty when he takes it out of his pocket, and he gestures towards the balcony with his hand without finishing the sentence.

It’s freezing outside, even for late November. Zayn lights up, exhales the smoke upward and rubs at his arms to try to stay warm. He tries a few times to blow smoke rings, but he’s too wound up to keep at it for long.

The sky is beautiful, really. When the smoke is all blown away and Zayn stubs out the cig with the toe of his boot, he’s tempted to stay and just marvel at it all for a while. There are no clouds, the stars bright and moon brighter. He sees one move, and he think it blinks, maybe. It’s probably a plane. Or a satellite, space station, or something.

Zayn wonders what else is out there.

When the cold really gets to him and his leather jacket is doing no more to keep the chill from his bones, Zayn makes his way back inside. Harry’s sitting on the beanbag chair, hat now perched on his head. It’s crooked, as is the smile he sends Zayn once he seats himself back down on the carpet.

“So, um. We’re just going to jump right in, if that’s okay with you.”

After a pause, the boys all look in his direction. “Me, again?” Zayn groans, flopping backwards and almost braining himself on the television stand. “Why am I always the one out of the loop? You have to stop having meetings without me. You aren’t allowed from now on.”

Harry looks at him with wide, apologetic eyes. “We’re sorry, really. We promise we won’t keep things from you anymore.”

At that, Zayn hauls himself up a bit and braces himself on his elbows. Liam shrinks back into the couch and avoids his narrowed eyes.

“Go on, then. You’re keeping things from me?”

Louis moves to look at Harry with overly exaggerated movements. “Yes, Harry. Why don’t you tell Zayn what this is all about, hm? Do the honours?”

The harsh tone he uses causes Zayn to pull himself upright again. “Uh.”

“It’s, um,” Harry says, taking off his hat to smooth his hair back. “It’s about Niall.”

Zayn’s stomach drops to the floor. They wait for Harry to continue, or maybe for Zayn to react, but both of them do neither. Zayn isn’t sure he knows how to convey his emotions in an expression. Liam’s face is crumbling more every second, and he looks like he’s trying to sink into the couch cushions. Finally, Louis snatches Harry’s hat and drops it on Liam’s head before speaking, “ _Wow_ , didn’t you just clear things right up there, man. Care to _elaborate_ , maybe?”

A few seconds and Zayn feels like he can talk again. “What about Niall? This isn’t, like, a joke, right? He’s a real person?” His voice sounds croaky and weak and _small_ , even to his own ears.

Immediately, Harry is nodding and leaning forward, dropping to the floor beside Zayn. “Yes, of course he’s real. _God_ , Zayn, we wouldn’t do that to you. I promise we would never.”

“Then what is it?” Zayn asks. They’re dancing around the actual _thing_ so much that he’s getting panicky. Anxiety is clenching around his lungs like a vice—can they just spit it out already? “Is he, like, a criminal? Married? What is it?”

“Nothing bad like that,” Louis says, still cold and angry. “This is a different kind of bad. Niall didn’t want to tell you right away, and Harry agreed, but I think they’re both being stupid. And since you’re about to videochat we thought we’d give you a heads up. Isn’t that right, Harry?”

“Right,” Harry mumbles back, scratching at his neck. There’s probably a picture of this exact moment next to the word “guilty” in the dictionary, Zayn thinks.

“Can I not… Am I not allowed to meet him? Just tell me, please.”

“Meeting him, um, right. That’s going to be a bit complicated. Like, for the next while.”

When Harry doesn’t continue, Louis rolls his eyes. “What Harry’s trying to say is that you can’t meet Niall. Or at least not yet.” He pauses for a second, eyebrows screwing up as he thinks. “A month and a half you’ll have to wait.”

Zayn’s breath catches in his throat, then, and he has to swallow hard to get words out. “Why?”

Harry’s eyes have already gone huge and sorry again when Zayn turns his gaze to him, and his heart sinks before Harry even opens his mouth. “Niall is an astronaut. And he’s… kind of in space. Like, right now.”

They lapse into silence, the boys all staring at him cautiously. Bracing themselves. As they should be, Zayn thinks. “And you didn’t think this was something you should’ve told me before you set me up on a date with him? You didn’t think to tell me that Niall, the guy you _set me up with_ , isn’t even on Earth?” He has to work disgustingly hard to keep his voice from shaking, his fingernails from breaking the skin on his palms. He’s not sure exactly what emotions he’s feeling, but they hurt to say the least.

“He was just worried because, like… He didn’t want you to not want to give it a try with him just because he wasn’t on the planet. It seemed harmless at the time. And I just _really_ thought you two would fit well together.”

“This is why you have to date him over Skype and why his internet is fucking _awful_. And it’s why you haven’t met him yet,” Louis says. He seems to have calmed down now, to an extent.

For some reason, his eyes start to sting. It’s stupid, really, but the thought of the person he’s talking to being in space— _Niall_ being in space—is making something heavy settle in his stomach.

“He’s coming back in, like, mid-January, Niall is,” Harry says, voice gentle.

“We’re sorry we couldn’t tell you, for the record,” Louis adds.

Which—they’re all looking at him with _pity_ , now, and it’s aggravating. Zayn almost prefers being oblivious. Thinking that Niall was caught up in work the next town over and not somewhere else in the universe was better than this.

“And you?” Zayn manages to say. His voice is wavering a bit, but he looks at Liam as steadily as he can while he waits for a response.

“I didn’t know Niall wasn’t, like, on the planet. I haven’t met him. Lou told me right after we left your place the other day. The morning date, you know, when we used your key. The yoga thing,” Liam says guiltily.

When Zayn breathes out, an involuntary noise escapes from the back of his throat. It sounds grossly hurt, and he _can’t_. “So a week ago. You all knew a week ago, and you all still waited a week to tell me. Waited months even though _I’m_ the one dating him.”

“Zayn—”

He jerks away from the hand Harry sets on his shoulder, letting out a short laugh. Everything is too much, his thoughts crowding in too close, too fast. It’s overwhelming and he can’t properly process anything. Shaking his head, Zayn gets to his feet, almost tipping over with how quickly he stands.

“It’s fine, whatever, cool. Loyalty and all. I get it. I’ll just—” he cuts himself off, because he can’t organize his own thoughts to be understandable, much less make a complete sentence. “Go. I’ll— I’m going.”

“We—”

Zayn hears the scrambling behind him, the sounds of someone, probably Liam, getting up, and shoves his feet quickly into his shoes. With his heel still poking out the back of one and his laces untied, he yanks open the door. Right before Zayn slams it shut behind him he realizes his jacket is still draped over the back of that shitty chair, but he figures if he walks fast enough he can get back to his apartment before the chill actually gets to him.

It’s not long later that he’s back in his own apartment. His fingers shake when he goes to hang up his keys, and _fuck_ , it’s too fucking cold. More than he has since he arrived, Zayn longs to go back to Arizona. He wants to go _home_.

Instead of going to sleep or trying to process his emotions, he stumbles his way into his bedroom with chattering teeth. He rips the blanket off of his bed—it knocks over his alarm clock, and it’s probably broken now but it was a piece of shit anyways, so he doesn’t bother to check—before heading back to the living room.

Fucking _stupid_ , blind dates are. Dates in general are stupid. It’s all so… so _shit_.

Zayn collapses on the couch with his blanket wrapped around him tightly. _Dead Poets Society_ is still in his DVD player. As he waits for the picture to fade in—it’s an old TV, okay?—his phone buzzes once.

_****Niall**** : how’d it go?_

Zayn turns it on airplane mode before chucking his phone onto the coffee table. It skitters across the surface and drops off the other side. _Good_.

Cranking the volume as loud as he can stand, Zayn hopes that it’ll be loud enough to drown out all his thoughts and distract him from the anger simmering in his gut.


	2. Chapter 2

“What are you doing?”

Avoiding Liam’s eyes, Zayn burrows himself further into the blanket he’s curled up in. Tiger makes a displeased noise from where he was sitting by Zayn’s stomach at the movement before hopping off the couch altogether. There goes Zayn’s heater, then. “Nothing.”

“That’s not the truth.” Liam sits himself on top of the coffee table, blocking the TV. Worse, he grabs the remote and turns the volume down a few decibels before he continues. “We haven’t seen you for the past three days, Zayn. We texted and you didn’t answer, phoned and you didn’t answer. Hell, man, we _knocked on your door_ and you didn’t show any sign of life.”

“I’m fine,” Zayn says. It’s a lie.

Liam shifts forward so his elbows are braced on his thighs and his chin is resting on his hands. “You don’t need to lie to me, man. If Louis hadn’t stolen my copy of your key and then lost it, I would have come sooner. This isn’t healthy. When was the last time you opened the curtains? Seen the sun?”

On screen, Zayn knows all the boys are saying, “ _O Captain! My Captain!_ ” It’s not like he can see the TV now, but the same movie has been playing on a loop for days. He shrugs at Liam, tugging the blanket up to his chin and shutting his eyes. Maybe if he doesn’t cooperate, Liam will give up faster.

“Man, you always cry during this movie. Why are you doing this to yourself?” Liam asks, and Zayn hears rustling and then footsteps. Peeking an eye open, he sees that Liam is ejecting the disc, putting it back in its case. The feed goes all fuzzy and then Liam’s fiddling with the buttons, trying to figure out how to work Zayn’s dinosaur of a television.

“ _Dead Poets Society_ is a great movie,” Zayn says into his blanket. It’s weak, at best.

“Not when you’ve been moping in your apartment for three straight days it isn’t,” Liam says, finally changing the source back to cable, paid programming for the Magic Bullet. Maybe Zayn will get one for Harry. The last one he had broke. Something about a dead power base, or whatever.

Zayn tugs up the blanket again, this time up to his nose, after briefly noting the website address. “Circumstances don’t change movie quality.”

“Well,” Liam says, shrugging in lieu of continuing. He clicks at the buttons again until the channel is on some old 90s sitcom with a laugh track. “Here. Happy stuff, you big mope.”

“Not a mope.”

Liam snorts, lifts up Zayn’s feet so he can plop himself down at the end of the couch and curl his arm over the tops of his knees. “You’ve been shut inside this apartment for three days. No one has heard from you. Also, you smell horrible. When was the last time you showered, or ate something that wasn’t takeout?”

There’s an empty Styrofoam container that looks to have been from last night’s Chinese beside Liam’s arm, and he shakes it in front of Zayn’s face like it’s evidence. As if one lazy night is all the proof he needs.

“I’ve just been chilling,” Zayn replies, smacking at Liam’s hand until the container drops to the ground. “Just because I don’t spend every waking moment with you idiots doesn’t mean I’m stewing in my own misery.”

“In this case it does. When was the last time you ate a piece of fruit?”

“Who _cares_ , Liam?”

They sit in silence for a moment, Liam staring at Zayn while Zayn stares at the TV. He tries not to succumb to the sad look he knows Liam’s sending him. He refuses to be guilted into spilling his feelings. There have been enough cry sessions over the past few days. What he needs is to be alone, so he can fix himself up, and he needs to _not_ be coddled by his friends.

“Niall messaged Harry the other day.”

Zayn’s whole body tenses, and he knows Liam can feel it. Desperately, he hopes Liam will leave it at that, but nothing has really gone his way lately so he’s not surprised when Liam clears his throat and continues.

“He was worried about you, you know,” he says, tapping on the side of Zayn’s knee lightly. “You missed your Skype date. Webcam and everything, like. You didn’t answer any of his messages, either. He wants a chance to explain, if you’ll give it to him.”

There are tears prickling behind his eyes, just a bit. Zayn’s heart has gone all heavy at the thought of Niall, and hearing that Niall was upset too doesn’t make him feel any better. It just makes him miss their conversations. He thinks about Niall’s avatar, where his nephew and him were dressed as astronauts. Perhaps Niall’s suit was real. Or, maybe actual space suits are too bulky to walk around in. Maybe he’ll Google it later.

But the thought makes his heart clench, so maybe he won’t.

“Harry told him what happened. Explained that it’s more or less all his fault that you’ve been avoiding him. Niall says he’s sorry, and that you can talk to him whenever—if ever—you want.” Liam reaches up and grips tight on his shoulder, not letting up until Zayn turns and takes a look at him. “He thought if he told you, you wouldn’t bother with him.”

Now there’s a real threat of tears falling, because Niall is sorry even though absolutely _nothing_ is his fault. Or, it is, sort of, but there are valid reasons for it, at least. Zayn of all people can understand withholding information in the interests of pursuing a relationship.

“I’m not—” Zayn starts. There’s his heart, there, clogged in his throat. His voice comes out croaky and weak. “I’m not mad at him. Niall, Harry, or Louis, that is.”

The grip on his shoulder softens a bit at that. “Then why are you holed up in your apartment?”

And that’s the big question, isn’t it? Zayn digs a little, tries to gently untangle his thoughts and feelings. Everything is messy and too much. He hasn’t looked into _why_ he feels so hurt by this, instead trying to keep the emotions at arm’s length. Really, he has just been moping these past few days, not wanting to talk to anyone except Niall, but afraid to talk to him, too.

Zayn misses him more than he cares to admit.

“Because he’s in _space_ , Liam, and no one fucking told me,” is what he says.

“He’s coming back. He’ll be back in, like, a few weeks. Five-ish weeks,” Liam says, voice brightening as he shakes Zayn’s shoulder. Like he believes he can shake the sadness right out of him.

“But, like, nothing is stone, right? Technology has flaws. Mistakes get made. What if…” Zayn trails off, clenches his jaw. He won’t finish that thought.

Liam gives his shoulder another squeeze. “But there’s such a high chance he will come back all right. They’ve done this before, Zayn, and you can’t worry yourself sick over that. You like him a lot, we can all tell, and if he comes back okay, which he _will_ ,you don’t want to miss out on what might be, right?”

Listening to Liam, it’s like he’s finally undone one of the knots. “That’s the thing, though, isn’t it? He’ll come back and then what? He’s in space right now. There obviously aren’t many dating prospects. He hasn’t been able to date people _because_ he’s been in space. Niall gets back and then—” His voice wavers again, and he has to swallow hard to get the rest out. “Niall gets back, and then he has the whole world. No restrictions. What if he doesn’t even want to stay in the city? Or if he doesn’t want to see me anymore because he can freely pursue anyone else on Earth?”

“Oh, Zayn—”

“It’s, like. It’s fine,” Zayn interrupts. Suddenly Liam’s hand on his shoulder seems less like comfort and more like pity, so he shrugs it off. He can’t look him in the eye anymore. “I’m overreacting. It’s a lot to process. I just want to be alone for a while, if that’s all right.”

Liam hesitates, hand hovering in mid-air. Zayn can just make out the flurry of conflicted emotions flit across his face, eyebrows furrowed.

“I’ll be fine, Li. Promise,” Zayn says, quieter. He pulls his knees closer to his chest, so his legs aren’t draped over Liam’s lap anymore. It’s dismissive, and Zayn holds his breath, hopes that Liam doesn’t try to argue the matter further. He’s not sure if he could take another minute of talking about this.

“Okay,” Liam says, nodding. He pats at Zayn’s leg once more before he stands. He’s kind enough to pick Zayn’s phone off of the floor, where it had been sitting for three days, and plugs it into the outlet closest to the couch. “Answer that every now and again, would you? We’d like to at least know you’re alive.”

It’s not too much to ask, especially if it means he’ll get a few more days on the couch, so Zayn nods and takes the phone from Liam’s outstretched hand, careful of the cord.

“I’ll lock the door behind me. Just try to get out soon, yeah? We miss you, man.”

It’s a moment before Zayn replies, what with him having to take a few deep breaths just to calm down enough to speak. “Will do,” Zayn says to Liam’s retreating figure.

Liam doesn’t hear him, or at least doesn’t reply. The door shuts behind him and the noise echoes a bit in the nearly empty apartment.

The battery on his phone miraculously isn’t fully dead, so Zayn doesn’t have to wait for it to power up. He flicks up on the screen to turn off airplane mode and waits. He stares for a second at his background: a picture of the four boys that they had asked a random passerby to take while they were at Stanley Park. It’s pouring rain, but they’re all grinning widely regardless. 

It’s only a few seconds later that the notifications and texts start coming in.

 _ ** **Louis**** : DRINKS 2NITE DONT FORGET_

_****Louis**** : you fucker._

_****Liam**** : take the time u need. sry I didn’t tell u as soon as i found out_

****Liam**** : missd u tonight 

_****Harry**** : Niall said you missed your date? :(_

_****Harry**** : I’m very very sorry. Talk later? x_

Zayn scrolls through the texts, only registering half of them and ignoring the rest for the time being. The Skype messages are much worse, and he can’t help but read them all.

 _ ** **Niall**** : you r late again ha are you doing your hair ?_

_****Niall**** : hey are you doing okay?_

_****Niall**** : obviously something came up ah we can reschedule_

_****Niall**** : still cant wait to see your face ! :~)_

The next message was sent the day after the others, just yesterday, and after reading it Zayn tosses his phone back on the table, buries his head into his pillow and wills himself to fall asleep.

 _ ** **Niall**** : whatever I did im sorry. if smth changed that’s ok. I’ll b here when/if ever ur ready._

A few hours later, Zayn’s phone starts buzzing. It wakes him up, loud and obnoxious on the table, and he wishes that he just kept it on fucking airplane mode. The texts come in quick succession, though, so he frees his hand from the tangle of the duvet and grabs it.

 _ ** **Louis**** : are u serious_

_****Louis**** : ur a massive idiot u know that?_

_****Louis**** : jesus christ ur more dramatic than i thought_

_****Louis**** : if I bang on ur door long enough would u let me in?_

_****Louis**** : never mind I got ur key. thank liam_

Zayn takes that to mean that Louis is on his way over, and there’s no way he’ll be as kind and forgiving as Liam. Louis would probably bodily force him off of the couch. Nonetheless, he buries his face back into the blanket and shuts his eyes again.

He’s half asleep again when there’s a loud banging on his door, then someone is barging into his apartment. “Rise and shine, pretty boy.”

“I’m up,” Zayn says, even though he hasn’t moved off of the couch in the past 24 hours. “Up, shining, pretty, whatever.”

“Wrong,” Louis says, and then suddenly it’s painfully bright. The blanket is ripped off of him and the curtains are flung open in quick succession. “ _Now_ you’re up.”

“Jesus Christ, Lou. Really?”

“Yes, really, and do you want to know why?” Louis grabs a half-eaten bag of chips off of the floor and sits himself down on the coffee table, like Liam had done hours earlier. “Because you’re a huge moron. You’re so dense it boggles my mind.”

Okay, he’ll play. “And why is that?” Zayn asks. There’s still sleep in his eyes, and his bones are all stiff from sleeping on the couch for days, so it takes a few seconds to pull himself into a sitting position. “Why am I a moron?”

“Because he likes you, and you like him, but here you are being all dramatic about one little withheld piece of information,” Louis replies, pausing to throw a few chips at him. “He’s been bugging Harry and I about you for _days_ , and you have the audacity to think that you’re the only one moping here? God, you’re infuriating. He’s not on the planet; so what?”

 _So what_? “Oh, yeah. Such a minor thing, right? He didn’t say that he was stuck at the International Space Station with, like, a few other people who he’s been with for ages, so what am I supposed to think? Who in their right mind would decide to start a relationship with someone while one of them isn’t on Earth? Obviously I’m, like, his only option aside from people on board with him.” Zayn replies, because, really, Louis has to see where he’s coming from, right? “What was I supposed to think, man?”

Finally rubbing the fuzziness out of his eyes, Zayn looks up at Louis. Another chip hits him in the cheek.

“You were _supposed_ to trust us! He’s just had issues with it before, since he’s so into his job. Not everyone is willing to stay in a relationship if they think they have to compete with fucking outer space—which isn’t true, by the way. We would never set you up with someone who saw you as their only option. Harry just brought up that he thought you two would click, I agreed, and Liam decided to trust our judgment. You’ve been talking to him for a month, so why can’t you tell he’s just as gone for you as you are for him?”

Zayn feels his cheeks burning, just a bit, so he shrugs and looks away.

“He hasn’t even seen your face and he’s totally ass over tits for you. I swear. He said he wants to meet you at the airport. Isn’t that something you want, too?” Louis prods, kicking out a foot at Zayn’s knee. “Get it together, yeah? He’ll be back soon. Don’t know why you’re being such a big baby about it all. It’s just space.”

At that, Zayn snorts, rolls his eyes at Louis’ grin. “It’s not _just_ anything. It’s everything. Literally everything is space.”

Louis kicks harder at Zayn’s knee before crumpling up the now empty chip bag. “True. You still need to get it together, though.”

“You threatened to uninvite him from your birthday,” Zayn says, instead of agreeing. “That means he was invited in the first place. Which, like, doesn’t make sense, since on your birthday he’s still going to be, like, _not_ here.”

The way Louis looks at him makes Zayn almost regret bringing that up. “That’s the only thing you have to say? Fucking _aggravating_ , you are.”

“Shut up. The person I’m pretty sure I’m dating is in space and no one bothered to let me know.”

“What do you mean, _think_ you’re dating?”

“Well, what am I supposed to think in this situation, Louis? Hm?”

Louis throws the chip bag at Zayn’s face, eyes firey. “You can talk to him, for one. Instead of just blocking everyone.”

“I’m dealing with it, Lou. Promise,” is all Zayn can say back. He doesn’t want to start yelling. Louis doesn’t know how his emotions are only knotting worse the more he tries to untangle them. He can’t feel the tight ball of anger Zayn has tucked behind his ribs that he knows is only partially justified. 

“How’s your way of ‘dealing with it’ going, so far?”

“I just need a few days and then I’ll be fine. Fuck off.”

There’s a long silence, and then a pleased grin blooms on Louis’ face. He reaches to pinch at Zayn’s cheeks. “Good, get that anger out. And for the record, I was going to get him to Skype us on my birthday. Put his face up on the television and everything. Flaunt the fact that we have booze and he doesn’t.” Louis takes away his fingers only to use his palms to mush his cheeks in towards his nose. “Also, promises are binding, Malik, so don’t think I won’t hold you to that.”

His voice comes out odd when he speaks, what with Louis’ hands still squishing his face. “I swear I won’t break it. Now, _really_ fuck off.” Zayn manages to smack his hands away. When did he get used to how touchy his friends are?

“Yeah,” Louis says, voice soft now. “All right.”

 

****

 

“So how long, do you think, before you put both of you out of your misery?”

Zayn shrugs even though Louis can’t see him, jamming his phone between his ear and shoulder so he can pick out another DVD. The hostility that was between them has already been long left behind them. “Dunno. Still, like, nervous about it, I guess.”

“Well then stop being nervous. It’s been a week, man. I’m sick of getting messages from him asking for updates on you,” Louis says, sighing into the receiver. It sounds crackly to Zayn’s ears.

“I have, like, really bad service in here, sorry. But he asks about me? Still?” Zayn asks, making his way to the checkout.

Louis snorts. “Of course he does, you idiot. Don’t you remember? He’s gone for you. How can I drill this into your brain?” A pause, and then, “Where are you, even?”

“Video store,” Zayn says. The employee—his nametag says Ed—is staring at him with one eyebrow raised, and Zayn nods at him. “Right, and I have to go, man.”

“Okay. Get your shit together, yeah?”

As he pats his pockets for his wallet, nearly dropping his phone, Ed starts to check him in. “Yeah, all right. Bye.”

When Zayn finally grabs his wallet and looks up, Ed is looking at him with a barely-contained grin. “Have a theme here, mate?” He’s British, Zayn notes.

“Uh.” Zayn scratches at his throat. Looking at his haul, it’d be ridiculous of him to say no. “Yeah, I guess.”

“For any special reason?” Ed asks casually, scanning through another DVD. “The flyby was a few months back. Like, sometime in July, I think. Should have gotten into it then. It was, like, a pretty big deal.”

“Yeah. Pluto, right?” Ed nods. “Um, I guess not really. Just don’t feel like sitting through some documentary to learn something. I’m kind of under a time crunch and I want to get in as much as I can.”

Ed picks up the last case to scan, looks at the title and laughs loudly. It attracts the attention of the only other person in the store, an older lady holding the 24th season of _Coronation Street_ , who looks over at them with narrowed eyes. Zayn looks back at Ed, who is scrubbing lightly under his eye, grin still wide.

“Don’t reckon a movie about Michael Jordan and cartoon characters will be very educational, but. All right, mate. Whatever you say.”

There’s heat rushing to his cheeks, and by the way that Ed’s smile grows, it’s definitely visible. “Um, that one’s just for fun. Didn’t pick that up for educational value,” Zayn says, hastily picking bills out from his wallet. “How much is this, again?”

“I’ll give this one to you on the house. No one has touched it in years.” Ed chuckles, flipping around the screen on the ancient-looking cash register so he can see the total. 

“It’s a good movie,” Zayn says, not meeting Ed’s eyes as he counts out exact change.

“Never said it wasn’t.”

Zayn nods and quickly shoves his things back into his pockets. Giving Ed—who is still laughing—a small wave, he picks up the bag and makes his way out of the store. He did promise Louis he’d sort himself out soon, and he’s planning on starting to work on it as soon as possible.

 

****

 

“George Clooney dies soon.”

Zayn pauses _Gravity_ , flipping over on the couch so he can look up at where Harry is standing, eating Zayn’s ice cream out of the tub. 

“I hate you and Louis so much. Stop using my spare key. It was for Liam, not you two,” Zayn says, clicking play again and cranking up the volume. Hopefully Harry gets the hint and shuts up.

Instead, Harry shrugs, says, “Should have known we would get a hold of it,” and plops down beside Zayn on the couch. The tub is half empty, but he was sure it had been nearly full the last time he checked. “What’s this, then? Space movie marathon?”

Zayn shrugs, slouching further into the couch. “Maybe.”

“For Niall.” It isn’t a question, so Zayn doesn’t answer. They watch Sandra and George float towards the ISS together in silence for a few moments before Harry speaks up again. 

“Why are you doing this to yourself?”

Zayn feels himself go tense. “What are you talking about?”

“You’re like, stalling for more time to freak out. Or that’s what Liam told me, at least.” Harry shrugs. “Also this was definitely an awful movie to pick. George _dies_.”

“Well, I know that now,” Zayn says. He doesn’t respond to Harry’s first statement; he doesn’t know how to.

“You didn’t know before now? Really?” Harry asks, eyes going wide as if he _just_ realized he spoiled something. “It was, like, a whole thing.”

Zayn shakes his head, makes an annoyed noise in the back of his throat. He’s just not always in the know, to be honest. 

“Anyways, it’s clear you’re totally gone for him, if you’re doing all this stuff to try to impress him. So I don’t know why you haven’t just talked to him. You love him. Or, really like him.” Harry pauses, taps at Zayn’s chin until he’s looking him in the eye. “He’d pick you no matter where he was. I swear.”

Zayn breathes out, and his voice comes out at a normal volume for the first time since Harry walked in. “Like, he’s coming back in the middle of January, right? He’s _definitely_ coming back?”

Harry coos at him, hooking an arm over Zayn’s shoulders and forcibly pushing Zayn’s head into his neck. “Of course he’s coming back. He’s our Niall; he always comes back. And then you guys can be cute little lovebirds, which is infinitely better than you two being mopey and sad. Also you should turn off this movie and watch it later. It’s good but, you know. George.”

“Niall is coming back,” Zayn repeats, out loud. He just likes to hear it over and over. It makes it seem more true that way. 

Harry nods with his nose in Zayn’s hair. “He is.”

“Okay. Tomorrow, then. He’s usually awake in the mornings, right?” Zayn asks, trying to come off as casual even though his heart is beating hard at the thought of talking to Niall— _seeing_ Niall. It’s a good feeling, light and happy and warm. He missed it.

Beside him, Harry beams. “Yes! Louis will be so glad to hear this. He’s been calling you rude names for days.”

“What?” Zayn’s eyebrows furrow together as he tries to extract himself from Harry’s arms. Harry’s grip only tightens, though, and Zayn gives up quickly.

“Don’t worry about it. He was lashing out because he’s worried about you and Niall. All of us are rooting for you. You know that, right?” Harry says, voice serious even though he’s now petting the side of Zayn’s face.

“Yeah,” Zayn replies, closing his eyes as George floats off into the unknown. “Yeah, I know. Thank you.”

 

****

 

 _ ** **Louis**** : harry told me ur skyping niall soon_

_****Louis**** : u gonna moon him?_

_****Zayn**** : i hate you_

_****Louis**** : show him uranus?_

_****Zayn**** : i’ll block your number i swear. dont think i wont._

He shuts off his phone before Louis can send any more annoying messages, and then logs onto Skype for the first time in two weeks. The circle next to Niall’s name is green, which means he’s online, and Zayn takes a deep breath before double clicking.

 _ ** **Zayn**** : can we talk?_

His heart is going a mile a minute. No matter how hard he tries he can’t get it to slow, nor can he stop his hands from wringing together. For all he knows, the boys lied and Niall doesn’t even want to talk to him anymore. Or, Niall could have gotten sick of Zayn’s silence and decided to be done with him. He’d understand both.

 _ ** **Niall**** : of course ! how are you?_

A loud breath whooshes out of him as Skype bubbles, and Zayn feels like he can properly breathe for the first time in ages. Sure, he’s still a bit upset Niall didn’t mention anything to him about his current whereabouts, but relief that Niall still wants anything to do with him washes over him like a wave.

 _ ** **Zayn**** : actually i was thinking we could have that video chat now? if thats ok with you_

Niall’s reply is almost instant, which is surprising, since it usually takes him a minute or so due to his horrible internet connection. Which makes a whole lot of sense, now.

 _ ** **Niall**** : yes !_

_****Niall**** : did you do your hair ? aha :~)_

At that, he runs a hand through his hair again, just to make sure it’s all in place. It’s good to know Niall is still up for joking with him. In a way, it’s like Zayn never went AWOL, and they’re just slipping seamlessly back into their dynamic. 

_****Zayn**** : oh, ha ha. i did. and its for you so i hope you appreciate it_

_****Niall**** : i do! but i can already tell you dont need to do it up to look good aha_

_****Niall**** : trust me ive got good instincts about things like this ;~)_

Zayn sends back a quick, _yeah, i do trust you_ before clicking the video call button. The spinning wheel pops up, and he uses the time to check his hair again in his own reflection. His heart is already high in his throat, and then Skype bubbles, and the feed connects.

Niall’s face is still too pixelated to make his features out on Zayn’s screen when he starts talking.

“I’ll be home in four weeks and I’m so sorry I didn’t tell you. I’m—” Niall stops abruptly, moves his face close on the webcam. Zayn can barely make out where his nose is. “ _Shit_.”

Niall’s voice is a little rough, but his words cause Zayn to pause, words sticking in his throat. “I— What? What’s wrong?”

“You don’t have an avatar,” Niall explains, as if this clarifies things instead of making them more confusing. “I’m just matching the person to the face.”

Zayn couldn’t stop his eyebrows from furrowing together if he tried. “What? Didn’t really wanna put myself out there yet. You know that.”

The clump of pixels nods. “Okay, you’re right, yeah. I’m just processing, you know? The person that I’ve been talking to on Skype is nice _and_ gorgeous. See? Processed already. Now, how are you?”

Zayn wants to melt, to give into Niall’s sincere words with a smile and a, _Good, how about you?_ but he wants to clear the air first. Starting something with Niall while this uneasiness is still bugging him would be a horrible idea. Zayn tries to school his expression into something neutral, tries to stop the gross nerves that are clenching in his stomach from showing on his face.

“I’m all right, I guess. How’s the weather up there?” Zayn’s voice comes out clear although a tad rushed, which is better than the mumbling he was expecting.

Niall smiles, bright and wide, before laughing. His laugh is something else, Zayn thinks. "Okay, wait. You were upset with me, or _are_ upset with me, and you have every right to be. But you've got to know that I didn’t mean to hurt to you, and I’m sorry for lying." His face screws up something funny. "Like, I meant to lie about my work but it’s just because I wanted you to give me a chance, you know."

He nods. "Yeah, it makes sense. I'm not, like, mad, though. I'm more upset with the situation than I am with you," Zayn says. "Things like this don't usually end well for me, remember?"

"Of course, Zayn," Niall says, earnest. "It’s just that get a bit too into talking about my work sometimes if given the opportunity. Didn’t want to scare you off. Wanted to get to know you without me being an astronaut getting in the way of it."

"It's fine, really. I was just, like, a bit upset about it. Being left out of the loop. I’m fine now," Zayn murmurs. The connection is _really_ shitty. Niall’s face keeps freezing and going all pixelated. NASA can’t really do much about the internet connection in space, which is understandable. "So, four weeks?"

That brings the smile back to Niall's face. "Yeah! I'm real excited. You don’t really get how fast everything changes until you’re gone, you know? Like, a guy who got here about a month ago has an iPhone 6 and the camera on it is _loads_ better than the one on my five. I want one of ‘em selfie sticks."

What a simple thing to be excited about. Zayn finds it endearing.

"Also," Niall grins, "I have you to meet me at the airport, now. If that's a thing you want to do."

Zayn starts nodding before Niall's even finished. "Yes! I mean, yeah. Of course I want to. Like, it's been a while and I'm friends with your friends, now. I really do want to meet you, Niall."

"Good." Niall nods. He gathers up two handfuls of fruit from a bag at his side and lets them go, poking some out of the way so Zayn can still see the awed expression on his face. "I can't wait, then."

“Does that ever get old?” Zayn asks. There’s a lemon floating right next to Niall’s ear.

Niall’s answering smile is blinding. “I got used to it, but I don’t think it’ll ever not be remarkable. Like, I’m in _space_ right now. So, in a way it never really gets old, no.”

“Ah, I see,” Zayn says. There’s a banana underneath his coffee table ( _Harry_ , of course). He picks it up and drops it in front of the webcam, mumbles an, “Oh, no,” just to hear Niall’s laugh. It’s loud and cackling and infectious, and it brings a smile to Zayn’s own face.

“Suppose I’ll be doing a lot of that once I get back,” Niall chuckles, tucking his hands under his armpits. He's wearing this t-shirt that he's got rolled up to his shoulders, probably to expose more of his biceps. Which are, Zayn admits, although pixelated, quite nice to look at.

Maybe Zayn should start working out more. He shoves his hands farther into the sleeves of his sweater. Zayn can't believe he's debating doing push-ups to impress someone. God. The last time Zayn did push-ups was probably in mandatory gym class, back in high school.

"So how few people are up there with you that you agreed to go on a date with an Earth-dwelling man such as myself?" Zayn asks. He recalls Niall mentioning a guy named Sean, and another man who was apparently also named Niall, but no others.

Niall flicks an orange out of his line of vision. "Not too many. There are six of us including myself. And I'd have talked to you whether I was in space or not, for the record. Louis and Harry spoke very enthusiastically about you. Didn’t want to have to wait until I land to see you."

Shit, Zayn hadn't known there were already expectations he was expected to reach. Maybe he should have whined less about his failures in romantic relationships. A warning would have been nice, damn them. "Did I live up to the hype?"

Niall lets out this short burst of laughter. Staccato, like he couldn't help it. "Bro, you _exceeded_ the hype."

That's nice to hear, if he's honest. "That's good, yeah," Zayn can't speak properly if he looks at Niall's face, even when it’s pixelated, he finds. He looks down at his lap and hopes his webcam isn't good enough to pick up his burning cheeks.

“I like your smile,” Niall says, all genuine and such. “You should be smiling all the time.”

Zayn has to cover his face with his hands, now, because he’s smiling so big he’s afraid he looks crazy. Pretending to rub at his eyes, he nods. “Okay, sounds good,” Zayn says through his fingers, peeking through the gaps at the screen again.

“Sounds good,” Niall parrots back, resting his chin in one of his hands. He seems content to sit in silence, but Zayn feels too on-edge for the quiet, currently.

“So, uh,” Zayn clears his throat, “When you said ‘shit,’ uh, you know, earlier—”

“It’s because you’re incredibly attractive.”

“Right, okay,” Zayn replies. It’s amazing how he can be so aware of something, can have people tell him he’s attractive all the time, but when Niall says it, it sends his heart fluttering. He feels like he might vibrate out of his skin. Everything is overwhelming, even though he tried so hard to take it slow and be cautious with his feelings. So much for that.

But Niall is saying, “Okay,” back at him, smiling gently and poking at another orange. 

Talking to Niall over video makes things feel like they’ve lurched into a new stage, but he hasn’t pushed Zayn to talk about or _do_ anything he hasn’t wanted to in the past two months of whatever this is. Now, Niall looks soft and content just looking at Zayn’s face in a horribly low-quality video chat from _space_. Zayn feels the anxiety leaving his body slowly but steadily as the seconds pass.

Four weeks, Niall said. Four weeks is doable. 

“Did you know—”

It comes out too loud, especially over laptop speakers, Zayn would guess, because Niall’s head pops up rather quickly. The video goes pixelated before slowly regaining its original, only-slightly-better quality. Zayn clears his throat and starts again, quieter.

“Did you know that, um. _Curiosity_ sings Happy Birthday to itself? Even though it’s on Mars, alone?” As Niall blinks at him, Zayn’s heart crawls into his throat and lodges itself there.

“Yes,” Niall says slowly, “I knew that. Quite amazing, isn’t it?”

Zayn nods, looks away from the webcam. He’s turning into a bumbling mess in front of this boy, and he’s not at all sure where he was going with that train of thought anymore.

“Yeah, I watched a video of the people at NASA explaining how they did it. They all were so excited, and I thought it was cool. You know, to celebrate an Earth birthday on Mars,” he continues. His voice is doing that nervous thing he does, where he rushes ahead of himself and stumbles over every few words. Zayn isn’t sure he’s making sense anymore.

Niall raises his eyebrows but doesn’t respond otherwise, looking at Zayn with slight confusion. It makes more words jump out, jittery and odd.

“Did you like _Gravity_? I wasn’t a huge fan, but the special effects were remarkable. They won an award for that, I think.” He can’t look directly at the screen anymore.

There’s a chuckle from the laptop and Zayn feels his cheeks flare up. “Zayn, wh—”

“Okay, so, like, I looked up some stuff,” he interrupts, too fast. “And I _tried_ , I swear, but I was never good at science, and then I found the _Curiosity_ video, which led to watching more videos, right? Which led to…”

He pauses to breathe, and when he dares to look up, Niall has a smile on his face. It looks slightly amused, sure, but it doesn’t look mocking, so Zayn finishes. “Which ended with me renting, like, a dozen movies.”

Niall’s laugh then is just a little giggle, cheeks going a bit pink with it. “You can still rent movies? Like, you walked into a store that rents out movies?”

“Shut up,” Zayn replies, but he’s smiling, too. “There’s, like, _one_ place I know of that still does. Movies and games and shows, and stuff.”

“Of course you’d know. You practically scream old school,” Niall says, crossing his arms over his chest. He leans towards the camera then, squinting at the screen. “Is that a _landline_ behind you? With a _curly cord_?”

It definitely is. Niall laughs loudly with his head thrown back when Zayn can’t stop the face he makes and tilts his webcam so the phone is out of frame.

Zayn has to wait for Niall’s laugh to die down naturally before he continues, because he doesn’t think there’s any way that he could ever purposely cut that short. “Anyways, at first I was just going for _WALL-E_ because, like, they’re all at a space station, right? So, of course. But then I ended up getting a bunch more, too. _2001: A_ _Space Odyssey_ was good, um. Didn’t really get much out of _Space Jam_ , but it was a fun watch—”

“Had you not seen _Space Jam_ before this week?” Niall interrupts, eyes wide. He looks elated, and definitely not weirded out, thank God.

“Well, I mean, yeah, I’ve seen it, but I picked it up anyway. Hadn’t seen it since I was a kid.”

The grin Niall shoots him is bright enough to make Zayn’s own lips twitch. “Keep that one, man. That movie is a documentary. A fucking great documentary.”

“Right,” Zayn smiles, already making the mental note to call the video store tomorrow. He doesn’t think Ed would mind. 

“But you really rented all those space movies?” Niall asks, voice nothing but sincerely curious and maybe a little awed. “Why?”

What does he _mean_ , why? “Because _you’re_ in space, Niall,” Zayn says. He’s so quiet that he’s not even sure that the mic picks up his voice until Niall’s face smooths out and goes all soft and fond. “And because you listened to me talk about my art for hours. You live and breathe space, if Harry isn’t lying to me, and if you love it then I want to, like. Try to love it, too,” Zayn finishes in a mumble, blood rushing to his cheeks again.

There’s a long pause in which Niall just looks at him with wide, sparkly eyes. “You’re really something else,” is what Niall says in reply.

“Nah, that’s you,” Zayn mumbles, shaking his head. Niall is an astronaut and Zayn works reception in an art gallery. There isn’t really a competition, he thinks.

But Niall shakes his head again, enthusiastic and earnest. “We can both be. I’ll compromise.”

“That sounds good, too,” Zayn says. He kind of wants to argue, to insist that Niall is the remarkable one, but he finds that he doesn’t want to argue with Niall when he’s smiling at him like that. 

“Indeed it does,” Niall’s smile gets bigger, if possible, and Zayn wants to kiss him. He’s not sure how that would work, what with how much teeth Niall is showing, but it would still probably be a pretty fucking great kiss. Judging by the past hour spent talking to Niall face-to-face (face-to-screen?) Zayn thinks he’d laugh right into it.

“So, um, what day, exactly, do you get back?” Zayn asks, instead of voicing his mushy thoughts. “No one ever actually told me. Should make sure I book the day off, right?”

Niall’s cheeks turn a brighter shade of pink, his eyes going all crinkled at the edges. “Right, of course. Um, I land in Russia, I think. I’ll be back in America, in Houston, on January eleventh. My connecting flight is the next day, and I’ll arrive in Van at around two in the afternoon. So, the twelfth.”

“The twelfth is my birthday,” Zayn says absently, watching as Niall’s eyes go wide.

“Shit. You don’t have anything planned, do you?”

 _Nothing I wouldn’t cancel to meet you at the airport._ Zayn puts his finger on his chin and pretends to think. Keeping a smile off of his face is one of the hardest things he’s done. “Hm. I think I can squeeze you in.”

“Yeah?” Niall’s still smiling. Do his cheeks always hurt or are they used to it by now? Cheeks of steel.

“Yeah,” Zayn replies, and he lets the smile he was holding back spread across his face. 

“Can’t wait, then,” Niall says back, grabbing a lemon from his side and picking at the peel with his fingers. They’re nice fingers.

“Me either.”

 

****

 

The boys ask to Skype Niall with Zayn five days later.

“Hi, Niall!” Louis yells as soon as Niall’s face comes into view, throwing himself forward so he encompasses almost the whole frame. “Missed your face, man.”

Niall’s answering grin is blinding to say the least. “Missed you too, man. Your hair is getting all scraggly.”

Louis makes an indignant noise, backs out of the capture almost entirely. “I changed my mind; I haven’t missed you at all. You can stay there for all I care.”

The laugh that erupts from the speakers is so loud that it crackles. Zayn finds himself grinning, as he’s horribly prone to doing when he talks to Niall. Or when Niall is mentioned. Or if Zayn thinks about him too long.

Zayn smiles a lot these days.

“So, I see a new face. How’re you, man?” Niall says after his laugh trails off. “I’m Niall.”

Liam waves tentatively from where he’s standing behind the couch. “Hi, Niall. I’m Liam, and I’m doing quite well. How’s, um, space?”

Niall chuckles again. “Space is good. It’s— it’s space.”

“Where are you, if you don’t mind me asking?” Liam says, leaning forward so his face is more visible in the capture. “I mean, like, where in the space station?”

Gesturing a bit with his hands, Niall says, “I’m in my sleep station, now. It’s sort of like a pod with a sleeping bag, but it’s got my new laptop here, too. Little work station, sort of thing.”

“Almost brunette now, aren’t you?” Harry pipes up, poking his head closer.

“Shut up,” Niall chuckles, running his hands through it. “I’ll bleach it once I get home. Maybe.”

“Your hair stays up by itself. You must be saving loads on gel. I’m jealous,” Liam says. He’s smiling now, too. It’s because of Niall’s sunny demeanor, Zayn thinks. He can’t wait until Niall gets back so he can experience it full force.

Niall nods along. “Definitely am, bro. Gel isn’t a top priority here,” he says. There’s a bit of a laugh to his words. He probably never fully stops laughing.

“Lucky,” Liam says, 

“Hey, Zayn,” Niall says, voice going soft. Zayn looks up to the screen to see his fond smile. It’s different now, softer around the edges but not any less bright. Zayn’s fingers ache with the urge to reach forward and feel the warmth of his skin.

“Hi, Niall,” Zayn says back, settling on a smile and a probably dorky looking wave that he almost immediately regrets. Niall’s face goes all crinkly when he waves back, though, so maybe he doesn’t regret it at all.

Retching noises start sounding from behind him, which manage to drag all the boys’ eyes from the screen. “Oh, this is disgusting,” Louis says, still miming vomiting. “Can both of you go to the ISS next time? You two are already unbearable and you aren’t even actually _together_ yet. I want you as far away from me as possible.”

Harry leans over to smack the back of his head, and even though Louis was probably kidding, he looks serious and stern. “Stop making fun of them. I’m their Cupid and I’m proud of my aim,” he says, nodding once, firmly, before looking back at Zayn with a smile. “We’re happy for you two, really.”

Niall laughs loudly on the screen, directing their attention back to the laptop. “Ha, Cupid. Almost naked, really into the concept of love, a huge baby? Sounds just like you, once I think about it.”

As Zayn giggles along with him, Harry’s eyebrows furrow in the middle. “I am not a baby. Don’t make me take back saying nice things.”

Niall shrugs, as if he knows he’s already forgiven. Judging by the way Harry’s lips are starting to twitch in amusement, he’s right. He still plays it up, though, Harry does. He gives an exasperated sigh and dramatically throws his arms up in defeat before he, like Louis, backs out of the frame. They both head towards the kitchen, and Zayn hears them say something about chips and an onion dip that Harry apparently left in the fridge last time he was over. Zayn doesn’t remember seeing it, but there’s a chance Harry hid it behind some kale, or whatever he puts in his smoothies.

“Looks like it’s just us three left, boys,” Liam says, walking around so he can take Harry’s now-vacant spot on the couch. “Scared the others away.”

Niall grins wide and cheesy, holds up his hand for a high five. Zayn reciprocates, air-high fiving him back. He can almost _hear_ Liam roll his eyes at them.

“Is this what you’re going to do at the airport? Straight for the high five?” Liam asks.

In the bottom corner where it shows his own webcam footage, Zayn can see that he’s pulling a ridiculous smile, the one where his eyes go all crinkly with the force of it. Louis was right; he _does_ look ridiculous smiling at his laptop.

“Think I’ll go straight for the firm handshake,” he says in reply, just to see the way Niall lights up.

Niall smiles back at him, rubbing his hand along his jaw absentmindedly. “Hope you can go for other things, as well.” This is paired with a ridiculous eyebrow waggle, which wipes the smirk off of Zayn’s face in favour of another more genuine smile.

“Okay, well. Louis was right. I’m going to go steal your chips, and then we’re all leaving. I don’t want to see where this is going,” Liam says, rolling his eyes again before he stands. 

“Hugs! I meant going for a hug,” Niall wheezes through his cackles. “C’mon, Liam. You can stay!”

Liam shakes his head, but he’s smiling big. “Nah, think I’ll leave you guys to, um, _it_.” He smacks Zayn’s cheek lightly before continuing on towards the kitchen, where Louis and Harry sound like they’re arguing. 

“What do you mean by that?” Zayn snorts, tipping his head back to watch as Liam walks out.

“Would say use protection, but, like,” Liam says when he turns back around, probably too low for the microphone to pick up, shrugging with a shit-eating grin on his face. When, exactly, did Louis get to him? Apparently Zayn missed it.

“It’s not—” Zayn starts, then stops himself when Liam just laughs and turns away again. His cheeks are burning, and he presses his palms to them for a moment before turning back to Niall. “Sorry. About that, I mean.”

“Why?” Niall asks. Ever so slowly, he’s starting to drift to the left. “They’re my friends, too. Well, Harry and Louis are. Liam will be soon, I’m sure. I’m just enjoying their limited abilities to badger me while I’m here. Which means you’ll take the brunt of it, unfortunately, but we can share once I get back. Promise.”

Attempting to keep his expression as serious as possible, Zayn raises his pinky finger up towards the camera. “Pinky promise?”

Niall giggles along easily, bringing his own pinky up. “Pinky promise.”

 

****

 

“Do you think it’ll be weird?”

Harry turns from where he’s setting up nutcrackers on the mantle to look at Zayn with his head cocked to the side. “What do you mean? Is this about Niall?”

“Of course it’s about Niall. It’s always about Niall,” Louis snorts from the floor. The Nintendo DS he’s playing is held right over his face. Maybe Zayn should give it a little tap with the elf shoes Harry forced him into, make it fall onto Louis’ nose. 

“Shut up, man. I’m serious,” Zayn says, kicking out his foot. He makes contact with Louis’ arm, but Louis jerks away before Zayn can knock the DS out of his hands. “Also, I wasn’t talking to you.”

“Rude,” Louis says, barrel-rolling over so he’s out of Zayn’s reach. “Fuck you too, then.” The red nose on him comes close to falling off, and he almost rolls into the Christmas tree that Harry just finished setting up an hour ago. He invited Louis and Zayn over to decorate while Liam was still at work, which they both did not end up helping with. They may have gotten into some of the champagne. Or, a lot of the champagne.

Before saying anything, Harry takes a long look at the tree, as if to make sure it’s not about to tip over. Even though Louis didn’t actually touch it. “Anyways, you were saying?” he asks after a few seconds, walking over to sit on the couch. He raises his eyebrows and gestures for Zayn to continue.

Sinking deeper into the couch, he says, “Yeah, Niall. I’m just worried about, like, once he gets back. Will it be weird or awkward? What if his opinion of me changes? If he doesn’t want to do,” he makes an all-encompassing gesture, “ _this_ anymore, then what?”

Humming again, Harry shifts so his hands are folded neatly in his lap. He looks like some therapist, in all honesty. If therapists wore massive reindeer antlers with jingle bells on them and horrible glitter-covered sweaters. Zayn’s sure some do.

“Well, what I can tell you to do is to talk to Niall about it if you want a definite answer,” Harry says, tapping lightly on the pom-pom of Zayn’s Santa hat. “What I can _also_ tell you is that I know Niall quite well by now, and I know he would tell you if he just wanted to be friends. I can also tell that he likes you, obviously, and I don’t think that’ll change once he’s standing in front of you.”

“At the risk of sounding like I’m coming on to you,” Louis pipes up, rolling himself closer to the couch again. When he looks up at them, Zayn can see how he’s holding back a grin. “I can confirm that you look even better in person than you do in photos. Or, on a screen in this case, I guess. Whatever.”

“Aww,” Harry smiles. “Look at you, being all nice.”

“Ah, and I regret it already,” Louis says back, smiling fully now. “You’re a sap.”

“But we’re both right,” Harry says, turning back to Zayn. “Trust us on this one. Or, if you don’t, ask Niall. Ask him anyways, actually.”

Louis smacks Zayn’s shin. “Tell us how it goes, too! It’s so funny when you go all red.”

“I won’t tell you, then,” Zayn scoffs, looking away, but he’s grinning, too. 

At that Louis rolls his eyes and throws his hands up, feigning anger. “First you’re missing my birthday, and now this?”

Harry’s antlers jingle when he tucks himself into Zayn’s side, and Louis goes back to mumbling obscenities at the game he’s playing. Their phones buzz with Liam’s _on my way now!_ , and Zayn thinks he might finally feel at home here.

“I’d like to ask him something now, though,” Zayn says. Niall is free at odd hours, like late at night and way-too-early in the morning. They make it work, even if their friends comment on how tired Zayn looks more often now. Whatever. “If you don’t mind.”

“Yeah! Yeah,” Harry says, only lifting himself up enough to allow Zayn to pick up Louis’ laptop from where it is on the coffee table.

“Lou, what’s your password?” he asks, nudging at Louis’ shoulder with his foot.

“As if I’m telling either of you,” Louis replies, hauling himself up so he can get his fingers on the keyboard. “Don’t dig too deep in there, either. You won’t like what you find.”

“Gross,” Harry mumbles, head back in Zayn’s neck. “You _store_ weird things on here? Google incognito is the way to go.”

Shrugging, Louis flops back onto the ground. “Easier access.”

“Gross,” Zayn repeats, Harry smiling happily at his agreement. “We won’t look. Just Skype. I’ll log out of your account, too, because I’m nice like that.”

Without having to dig, thankfully, Zayn quickly finds the Skype icon and opens it up. When he opens up his contacts, he sighs in relief to see the green circle next to Niall’s avatar. 

_****Zayn**** : :~)_

_****Niall**** : zayno! whts up ?_

“Aww,” Harry coos, “ _Zayno_.”

“Shut it,” Zayn says back. The smile probably takes away from the bite he tries to put in his words.

 _ ** **Zayn**** : with louis n harry helping decorate lou's place hbu?_

“You didn’t decorate at all! Don’t _lie_ -”

 _ ** **Niall**** : ah wish i was there ! not much. just chillin _

_****Zayn**** : nice aha. you busy 2 days from now?_

_****Niall**** : nope ! not busy in the slightest at night ha. definitely not if u dont want me to be ;~)_

_****Zayn**** : well i was wondering if you wouldnt mind being busy. wanted to have an actual dinner date before i leave for az_

Beside him, Harry gasps. “A proper romantic dinner date! You can light candles, he’ll _see_ them now!”

“Yes, Harry,” Zayn rolls his eyes, but he’s smiling too. Candles aren’t a bad idea, actually. 

_****Niall**** : i dont mind at all !_

_****Zayn**** : good :~) i expect a romantic meal on your part too_

_****Niall**** : i’ll see what i can do ha no guarantees _

“You going to tell your mom about him?” Louis asks.

Zayn blinks and looks from Louis back down to his screen. That wasn’t something he’d thought about yet, explaining this situation to his family. He’s not sure if he’d be able to handle his mom’s worry both in person and over phone calls once he leaves again.

“Um, might mention him but, like, not the whole Skype thing. Or the space thing. Not yet.”

Beside him Harry nods. “Vague is the way to go, I think. Tell them you don’t want to jinx it.”

He just shrugs in response, because what else is there to say, really? This isn’t something he wants to be thinking about now. Not when notifications are pinging in from Niall and Zayn is feeling warm and happy.

He’ll probably tell his mom everything as soon as she looks at him with her big, concerned eyes, anyways.

 _ ** **Niall**** : think i can get a salad. or smth from a can that looks nice._

_****Niall**** : okay so you have to have a dinner thats double fancy to make up for my slack_

_****Niall**** : this is going to b such a not-romantic meal on my part_

_****Niall**** : cant wait to wine n dine you properly :~)_

Zayn smiles, sends back a, _me neither :~)_.

 

****

 

As always, Niall’s face is horribly blurry when it pops up on Zayn’s screen.

“Hello,” he says, beaming wide. Niall is out of his little pod this time, seems to have lugged his laptop over into a more open area. There’s a piece of lettuce floating next to his ear. “How are you this fine evening, Mr. Malik?”

At that, Zayn can’t repress his smile. “It’s, like, midnight, Niall. Not really evening so much as almost morning.”

“Shush, you. I get my times mixed up,” Niall laughs. “Pretend it’s a normal time and we’re on a normal date in a normal place.”

“All right,” Zayn replies, scooting the laptop farther away from him on the table so his dinner plate comes into frame. “What’s the verdict? The food up to your standards of fanciness?”

Niall moves in close to the camera. Zayn can only see his forehead and one furrowed eyebrow. He’s probably squinting.

“What is that on top of your… chicken, is it? Is that some sort of leaf?”

There’s another laugh in Niall’s voice, and Zayn’s face heats up before he tosses the leaf off to the side. “Shut up, man. I wanted, like, garnish to make the chicken more fancy-looking but I didn’t realize I didn’t have anything to use until it was too late. So just nevermind. It isn’t important.”

“Lettuce?”

Zayn huffs, and it was loud enough for the mic to pick up judging by how Niall’s smile widens. He didn’t think anyone could tell. It’s just that the picture in the recipe he found online had a bit of parsley on top of the chicken, and Zayn didn’t just have parsley laying around, Jesus.

“Yes, lettuce.”

“Me too!” Niall lifts up a plate with just that floating immediately above it. “We grew it ourselves, Zayn. We’re the first group to grow food in space. Isn’t that so cool? _Space lettuce_.”

“I just have Earth lettuce, so I’m very jealous.”

“Good,” Niall grins. If it warms Zayn’s insides from just looking at him through a laptop screen, how is he going to survive when Niall smiles in person? “I’ll see if I can bring some back with me.”

“I’d be happy to taste it. But for now you get to eat it, so you should. C’mon, this is a dinner date,” Zayn tuts, schooling his expression into something that he hopes is serious. 

The feed freezes for a second, and then Niall is nodding and taking a bite of his salad, if just lettuce can even be considered a salad. It’s really nice, watching Niall bop his head along to some tune in his head and munch on rabbit food. If Zayn tries really hard to ignore the pixelation and static, he can almost convince himself Niall is in front of him. Almost. Sort of. He’s trying his best, at least.

“So,” Niall swallows, waves his fork around. “It’s your first time going back to see your family since you moved, right?”

Zayn nods, finishes what’s in his mouth before he replies. “Yeah, it is. My mom has been texting me for days about how excited they all are to see me. Thank God for iMessage, really, because if we really texted I probably wouldn’t be able to eat this month.”

“She’s just excited to see you. I understand the feeling. You’re really something else,” Niall says, casually, as if Zayn’s heart doesn’t shoot up into his throat at the words. 

“Nah, that’s you,” Zayn manages, smiling as Niall’s face lights up in recognition.

“We can both be,” he says, grin huge now. Zayn will need sunglasses for next time.

“Keep eating, you,” Zayn says around his laughs, popping a bit of carrot into his mouth.

Niall just shakes his head, though. “I’m already done, slow-poke. Is that champagne, or is it a last-minute substitute?”

This time, Zayn manages not to blush. “Ginger ale. It’s just in a fancy glass.”

Niall nods as if he’s some uppity critic. “You’re dressed very nicely. Very nice, but not overdone,” he says in an odd voice. “No candles tonight?”

“Burned them all out. I have to get new ones but, like, I wanted you to come with me. Liam doesn’t like all the smells and Harry just tells me to buy them all.”

Niall’s facade drops quickly. “Candle shopping? Sounds like a date, I mean,” he shrugs, moving so that his face is perpendicular to the screen. “Very romantic, that is.”

“What isn’t romantic is how you’re doing somersaults in the air on our current date,” Zayn points out, gesturing with his fork towards the webcam. “Right yourself. Or, right the screen. Guess it doesn’t matter which.”

Niall grabs the laptop so that the capture of him on Zayn’s screen is right side up, but continues spinning. “Am I good now?”

It’s not that funny, but Zayn finds a laugh bubbling out anyways. “Yeah, you’re always good.”

 

****

 

When Zayn lands in Phoenix, he’s hit by a wave of heat, followed immediately by his mother barrelling into him.

“Oh, sunshine, I’ve missed you so much. I’m so happy to see you,” she gushes, palms pressing into his cheeks. 

“But it’s always sunny, Mom,” he jokes, if only because her eyes are looking teary and if she starts, he’ll be set off, too. “Could do with some rain.”

It works; she laughs and starts tugging him towards the doors. “Bring the weather with you next time, then.”

There are multiple aunts, uncles, cousins and old family friends waiting for him when they get home. They all pinch at his cheeks and gush about how tall he’s gotten, which is ridiculous, because he’s 25 years old and it’s only been two years, max, since he saw some of them last. Maybe they’ve just gotten shorter, he thinks, but he keeps his mouth shut. Zayn can grin and bear it for a few days.

“So, how’s Canada?” Safaa asks once everyone’s had their turn with him and their attention is back on other things. “Freezing and snowy?”

“No,” Zayn rolls his eyes. “Slightly cold and rainy.”

“Sounds dreary,” she says, idly scrolling through her instagram feed. 

“Nah, not really,” he says, watching as his mom bustles around in the kitchen. She’d shooed him out earlier when he tried to help out, jokingly said he was a guest now and that he wasn’t allowed in. “It’s good.”

Safaa looks at him searchingly. Looking to see if he’s lying, probably. “Glad to hear.”

Zayn nods back at her before ruffling her hair. The serious atmosphere cracks when she whines at him and tries to mess up his hair back, turning into a half-assed swatting fight on the couch. 

When his family leaves later on that night and Zayn is curled up in the room that was his not so long ago, the house still smells like warm spices and Zayn decidedly doesn’t think about how he misses the sound of rain against the window.

 

****

 

It’s only after the first four days of Zayn being home that the house calms down a little. There aren’t ten people in the living room when he hauls himself out of bed at one in the afternoon anymore, and there are no more surprise parties. He feels like he has more breathing room, but his family does have questions

“So, you’re really doing fine?” Trisha asks one morning over pancakes. His father is out for a walk and Safaa is in her room working on some over-break project. 

“Yeah, I am, Mom,” he says back. He hopes he sounds convincing enough, because even if he’s telling the truth he knows he can come off as unsure. “Vancouver is good for me, really.”

She nods when Zayn doesn’t say anything else, takes another bite of her pancake as the silence settles. “Weather’s good?” Zayn nods. “The friends you mentioned, are they good?” Again, Zayn nods, listens as his mom says, “Good, good. That’s good.”

“Yeah. Good,” Zayn echoes. They lapse into silence, but Trisha’s brow is furrowed like she’s holding something back. Which, sure enough:

“Have you been seeing anyone since you’ve been there?”

She looks so sincerely curious that, as always, Zayn can’t bring himself to lie to her.

“Um, yeah. Sorta.”

Immediately, her face brightens and she looks cautiously hopeful. “Really? Oh, tell me all about it. I want to hear all about her. Where did you meet?”

Zayn’s throat tightens a bit but he still manages a quiet, “He’s a he. And we kind of haven’t.”

His mom takes a hold of his hand in both of hers. “Love, what do you mean?”

It’s just all too easy to crumble into his mom, to scooch his chair so they’re beside each other and let himself be pulled into a hug. He doesn’t cry this time, but his voice is small as he explains that Niall is in space and they’ve only been talking over Skype for three months. He can’t bring himself to say out loud that he’s still afraid Niall will never make it home.

“How long?” She asks him, rubbing warm circles on his shoulder.

“He lands in Vancouver on the twelfth,” Zayn says. “So, like, way too many days from now.”

“But that’s not so bad, hey?” Trisha says, pulling away enough that Zayn’s forced to sit up straight again. “That’s less than a month. You’ve got more time put behind you than you have ahead of you.”

Zayn shrugs. “I guess, but, like, it’s just harder now that I’ve seen his face and heard his voice. Feels like way too long.”

“He’ll be back on Earth before you know it,” Trisha smiles, messing up his hair. “And then you can bring him down and I’ll give you my official opinion.”

“ _Mom_ ,” he grumbles, but he’s smiling too big for his grumpiness to come off as believable and his mom pulls him into another hug.

“You know I just want you to be happy, sunshine. And he’s already making that happen, apparently, so he’s bound to be good in my books.”

 

****

 

On New Year’s Eve, Zayn’s parents and sisters all go out to parties, which leaves him with the house to himself.

“What time’s it now?” Niall asks, voice crackling over the speakers. “The seconds, too, if you can.”

Zayn looks down at his watch and adjusts the blanket wrapped around his shoulders. “11:49 and 52 seconds.”

“Think I’ll be able to see the fireworks from here?” Niall questions. He’s not expecting a response, obviously, because he drags himself away from the laptop to peek out the big window they have. “We weren’t, like, over the right time zones until now.”

“Dunno,” Zayn replies. “Maybe.”

“I hope so. I love fireworks,” Niall says. His smile as he looks out the window is soft, awed, and a little distant. It makes Zayn want to reach out and tug him down.

“Me, too.”

They’re quiet for a few more minutes as Niall takes turns looking out the window, then back at Zayn, then back out again. Zayn clicks the remote to his stereo to turn it on to something smooth and slow. The mic probably won’t pick up the music.

“Time, now?”

“11:56 and 12 seconds.”

Niall’s expression loses its dazed quality and he grins brightly at Zayn. “Look how fast time is going by, man. Feel as if I’ll be back home in no time. Like, if I close my eyes for a second too long I’ll open them just in time to burn through the atmosphere.”

“Don’t close your eyes, then,” Zayn says, quiet. “Enjoy your last few weeks. It’s not every day you’re up there, right?”

“Well, it hasn’t been every day that I’ve been chilling on Earth, either, these past few months,” Niall says back, running a hand through his hair. “I miss, like, walking. _Really_ walking. They say I won’t be able to run for a while, and that sucks.”

Zayn _ahh_ s at him, hoping it comes off as sympathetic. He really is sympathetic, but the level at which he wants Niall to be standing in front of him far surpasses that. “I’m not a fan of running.”

Niall chuckles. “Didn’t really think I was, either. But I guess we can all miss things we didn’t think we’d miss if we’re away from them long enough.”

“True, but I can’t say I miss scorpions,” Zayn says, resting his chin on his knees. “Or sunburns. Or the desert, really.”

“You’re cute when your nose scrunches up like that,” Niall says, and when Zayn scrunches his face up even more so at his words, he laughs. “Very cute.”

“Not cute,” Zayn rolls his eyes, but this is something they’ve bickered about for weeks, and he knows Niall is too stubborn to concede.

True to form, Niall shakes his head adamantly. “It’s cute. But I’m happy you don’t miss too much of Arizona.”

Zayn nods, letting his head tip to the side. Sleep has been evading him the past few days, and the fatigue is starting to catch up with him. “Yeah, being homesick sucks. I’m more over it, now. I like it in Vancouver.”

“Like it enough to stay?” Niall asks. It’s the first time Zayn’s heard him sound so unsure, and when the webcam feed clears up a bit, he can see that Niall is biting at his nails.

“Definitely enough to stay,” Zayn says. He tries to put as much conviction into his words as he can. Seeing Niall frown is making his stomach churn.

Suddenly, there’s loud clanging and yelling coming in through his window with the breeze. It’s loud enough for the mic to pick up, and Niall’s eyebrows shoot up to his forehead.

“Is that it? The time, Zayn!”

Zayn squints down at his watch and lets out a quiet sad noise, mostly for Niall’s benefit. “12:00 and 16 seconds.”

“Shit!” Niall laughs, dropping his hands from his mouth and grabbing a hold of the laptop. It jerks to the side, and Niall’s grin is on an angle when he yells, “Happy New Year!”

Zayn smiles at the picture and he’s just opening his mouth to reply when Niall lurches forward and plants his lips onto the webcam. The screen goes black and red, and there are obnoxiously loud smooching noises coming through on his speakers.

“Happy New Year to you, too,” Zayn says through his laugh when Niall pulls back. He immediately leans back in to wipe a bit of spit off of the camera, and it should be gross, but Zayn just finds himself stifling more giggles into his blanket.

“Best New Year’s kiss, I know. You don’t need to tell me,” Niall jokes, cheeks gone wonderfully pink.

“It is,” Zayn nods along, because in a way it is true. He doesn’t remember feeling this happy on any other New Year celebration, at least. “And I have one for you, too,” he continues. It feels horribly cheesy, but Zayn looks to the ceiling and blows an over-exaggerated kiss upwards, loud _muah_ and all.

When he looks back at his laptop, Niall is trying to suppress his grin. He’s holding his hand out as if waiting to catch it. Zayn doesn’t think he’s felt more ridiculously endeared than he does as he watches Niall pretend to catch his kiss and bring it to his own lips.

“Took a while, what without a rocketship, and all,” Niall says, fingers still hovering around his lips. “But I’ve got it.”

“Happy New Year, Niall,” Zayn says again, happiness settling warm in his stomach even as the cool breeze drifts in from the open window.

“Happy New Year, Zayn.”

 

****

 

“So what are we doing here, again?”

Zayn sighs, not bothering to look back at Louis when he replies, “We’re looking for a book. It’s for Niall.”

“Well I figured that, man,” Louis snaps. “We _are_ in a bookstore, so I sure hope you’re looking for a book.”

“Do you ever shut up?” Zayn still can’t find the _Science and Nature_ section that the website said the book would be in. They’ve been wandering around for ages, it seems.

Louis groans loudly from where he’s lagging behind Zayn. “Can we just ask someone? Jesus.”

Have they walked past this shelf before? Zayn isn’t sure anymore. “No. We’ll find it eventually on our own.”

“You mean _you_ will find it on _your_ own. I don’t even know what I’m here for, because your head is too far up in space to fucking tell me. Ha. Get it? Like, up in space because Niall is-”

“Yeah, I got it. Haha.” Zayn waves an arm behind him with intentions to smack Louis, but only ends up swatting at air. “We’re looking for the Hubble book, Louis,” Zayn says, turning around. Louis is really far behind him now, reading the back of a book while leaning against a shelf, and Zayn wanders back over to him. There’s a rather large hardcover in his hands, and Louis is reading the back of it. When Zayn snatches it from his hands to put it back, he sees that the title reads _Hubble: A Journey Through Space and Time_.

“We can leave now, right?” Louis asks, rolling his eyes and already starting to weave through the shelves towards the cash registers.

The book is, like, $30. It’s more than he really wants to pay for it, but it’s the 25th anniversary of the the thing, so that’s something, right? Also, Zayn’s pretty sure he saw Niall’s eyes sparkle when he was talking about how he couldn’t wait to get his hands on a copy. So, there’s that, too.

“Yeah,” Zayn nods, speed-walking to catch up to Louis. “Yeah, we’ll get this and then we can go.”

“You owe me a drink for dragging me here with you,” Louis says, smacking at Zayn’s shoulder lightly as he searches for his debit card. “It took 45 minutes when it could have easily only taken ten.”

Zayn shrugs as he hands his card to the cashier. “It only took 25 minutes, actually, but all right.”

“If I knew you would buy your boyfriend outrageously priced things at the drop of a hat then I would have dated you,” Louis says. “Would have gone all big-eyed and talked about how much I wanted a Beckham jersey.”

“Who is saying I’d agree to go on a date with the likes of you?” Zayn asks, because while he wouldn’t buy anything for Louis, he’s pretty sure he’d do anything he could to make Niall smile. It is getting a bit ridiculous.

Snorting, Louis knocks their shoulders together and sends him a grin. “You probably wouldn’t. You’re more into blondes.”

 

****

 

They’ve been standing in arrivals for hours, it feels like. Liam keeps telling him to stop jiggling his leg, but Zayn doesn’t think he can physically stop it. Anxiety is like a clog in his throat; he feels like he’s about to burst with it. The Hubble book is clutched tightly in his hands, tiny bow stuck to the top corner of it.

“The flight was just a bit delayed, Zayn.” Harry sits down next to him and places his hand on Zayn’s knee. “Try to relax a bit, yeah?”

“I really can’t,” Zayn manages. There’s a nervous laugh at the back of his throat, bubbling pressure. “Like, he’s just so close. We’re so close.”

“We are,” Harry says, soft as an echo. “We’re close, so there’s no need to be nervous. Have you taken a full breath in the past ten minutes? Don’t die on your birthday, man.”

A quick self-evaluation and Zayn realizes that he hasn’t, actually. All his breath is stuck at the top of his lungs, and he has to work to make himself inhale and exhale fully.

“There you go,” Liam says, gripping lightly at his shoulder for a few seconds before letting go again. “He’ll love you, man. He already does.”

“The boy speaks the truth,” Louis agrees. He’s standing just off to the side of the benches the three of them are sitting on, tossing his keys back and forth between his hands.

Liam’s eyebrows furrow. “I’m not a boy. I’m a _man_. I’m in med school.”

“So you’re a boy with a lot of debt, then.” Shrugging, Louis drops the keys on Liam’s head and wanders back towards the televisions.

Harry tuts lightly before moving to sit next to Liam. “Don’t listen to him. I think you’re very manly. Very adult-like.”

In the minutes that follow, Zayn gets up from the bench in favour of pacing back and forth, which Harry says is definitely worse to watch. If he stops moving for long enough, though, Zayn will start thinking too much, and then he’ll have to go outside and smoke another cigarette. And he doesn’t want to meet Niall smelling like a chimney. The smell is only just now starting to fade as it is.

“The big TVs say Niall’s plane just arrived,” Louis pipes up, snapping Zayn out of his head. “So I’d say he should be out in five minutes. Ish.”

“The last few minutes have felt like hours, man,” Zayn says. His voice is embarrassingly close to a whine, but honestly he feels close to bursting.

“But now you know that Niall is actually safe and unharmed, so your anxiety levels should decrease, right?”

Zayn turns to where Liam is looking at him hopefully, smile bright and eyes crinkled. It’s hard to be negative in the face of that. “I mean, I guess?”

“Look on the bright side: at least he didn’t pull a Clooney,” Harry says, grinning widely. 

“What does that mean?” Liam asks, eyebrows furrowing as he turns to Harry. “What did George do?”

Louis sighs loudly, waving his hand dismissively. “It’s, like, a whole thing. Harold is going to make us all watch _Gravity_ , now. Just watch.”

“I’m never watching that movie again.”

“But _Zaaaayn_ ,” Harry complains. He draws out his vowels, like a petulant kid. “It’s such a great film.”

The doors open just as Zayn is about to argue, and Louis smacks him hard on the back.

“This is it, man.”

It sounds like Louis is talking to him from the far end of a tunnel. Zayn is too busy scanning the faces of those walking out the doors, a constant chant of _Niall, Niall, Niall_ looping in his head. He’s going to walk out the doors, then towards the bench, and then he’ll be right in front of Zayn. Body and everything; no screens. 

It feels like a huge fucking deal. It _is_.

“There he is!” Harry yells, waving his arms wildly above his head and taking off towards the sea of people. Zayn doesn’t see him, and his breathing picks up again.

An elbow nudges at his side, and Zayn turns his head in time to see Louis rolling his eyes. “He’s probably the only one of us that can see him. Fucking stilts for legs, he has. Ridiculous.”

“Yeah,” Zayn says. His voice is light and far away to his own ears, blood rushing loud like static. The book is jabbing uncomfortably into his ribs, but he can’t find it in himself to loosen up. Another body presses lightly into his side, and then Liam is reaching down and forcibly unclenching Zayn’s fingers from where they’re digging harshly into his palm.

Then, a loud laugh sounds and there’s a head with hair, just bleached at the very ends, tucked into Harry’s chest. Louis is gone from his side in a second, laughing as he forces himself between the two and envelops Niall in his own hug. Zayn can’t get his limbs to work, even when Liam nudges at him and chuckles lightly. They can hear Louis’ words, since he’s talking so loudly.

“Don’t bug him, Styles. You’re a fucking rockstar, man. An absolute legend!”

Niall laughs again, giggles something into Louis shoulder. When he pulls back, his face is flushed red and he has a pleased smile on his face. 

Just like through Skype, Zayn can see his eyes sparkling.

It takes a few moments for Louis to be done digging his fist into Niall’s head, his other elbow locked around his throat to keep him still. When Louis finally breaks his grip, Niall’s hair is mussed and Harry has his fingers wrapped tightly around his wrist. The three of them make their way back to where Liam and Zayn are still standing, and Harry tugs at Niall until he’s standing more or less in front of Liam.

“I’m being rude, I’m sorry,” Harry gushes, his smile too wide for the apology to be considered genuine. “These here are our new strays.”

It isn’t really funny, but Niall laughs anyways, taking the hand Liam sticks out. “It’s nice to actually meet you in person, man. You’re even bigger than I thought you were, and you looked pretty buff in the first place.”

Even though he doesn’t know why he does, Zayn nods along to Niall’s words. It’s more movement than he’s managed in the past two minutes, at least.

“Aw, you’ll make me blush,” Liam smiles, shaking Niall’s hand. “Nice to meet you too, Niall.” Niall’s grin widens and he tugs him into a half-hug that leaves Liam smiling crinkly-eyed, before he pulls his hand back and shifts over.

They’re standing face to face, now. Zayn didn’t expect Niall to be taller than him, but he is by about an inch. Pixels don’t blur out his edges like they did over Skype, but Niall is still soft and warm in the way Zayn thought he would be. His smile is more disarming now, though.

“Hi, I’m Niall,” he says, and Zayn can tell he’s trying not to smile any harder than he already is, his cheeks gone red. Zayn can feel his own smile straining his cheeks. 

His brain short circuits, and instead of responding like a normal person, he holds up the book in front of Niall. It’s only shaking a little bit. “I got you, um. This.”

Niall takes it from him and does a little fist pump. “This is great! Thank you, Zayn,” Niall says, grin wide. “Happy birthday, by the way! I got you something, too.” He drops one of the straps of his backpack and digs through it before pulling out something green contained in plastic wrap. 

The laugh bubbles from Zayn’s throat before he can try to stop it, because he already knows what it is. Niall beams at the sound and then hands over the lump of greens.

“Just what I wanted, man. Thank you,” Zayn says. It’s the most sincere he’s felt about a “thank you” since he moved to the country, he thinks.

“Lettuce?” Harry asks, eyebrows furrowed. “You’re giving him lettuce and not me?”

Niall nods when Zayn takes it, looking pleased with himself. “Space lettuce is the best lettuce. Also I couldn’t get the others to part with the flower we grew, so this is what I could do. Now,” he clears his throat and his expression turns serious, suddenly. “I believe I was promised a firm handshake.”

Zayn laughs again, because Niall has got to know he wasn’t serious about that, but he takes the outstretched hand anyways. Niall’s expression melts back into something bright and soft quickly, and it’s like all Zayn’s nerves settle at once.

“Hi, I’m Zayn,” he says, voice quiet so as to not break the moment. The way Niall grips his hand is firm, but seems different than the handshake he gave Liam. Softer, somehow. As if Niall thinks that Zayn is made of glass.

“And I’m going to be sick,” Louis adds, and Zayn glances over to see that he’s got his elbow propped on Liam’s shoulder. “We’re going to start walking to the luggage carousel, now, so feel free to follow whenever you’re done shaking hands and exchanging fucking _lettuce_. We don’t know which bag is yours, Niall, so we’ll just be standing there.” Louis shrugs, and then the boys leave.

Zayn realizes that their hands are still clasped together between them, and they’re standing closer than any two people would be for a handshake. A few seconds pass with Zayn’s pulse loud in his own ears, and then Niall rolls his eyes and tugs him a little closer. “I’m a hugger, if that’s all right with you.” 

He nods, and then Niall’s arms are warm around his waist. It’s so easy to melt into, wrapping his own arms around Niall’s neck and resting his chin on his shoulder. It’s a bit longer than a polite hug would be.

As soon as Niall lets go of Zayn’s middle, he grabs Zayn’s hand again—the one without the lettuce—and links their fingers together, and now they’re _holding hands_. Blood rushes to Zayn’s cheeks, and when he mumbles a quiet, “ _Oh_ ,” Niall’s smile emerges full force.

“Oh, indeed,” Niall says, swinging their hands lightly between them. “Is this okay?”

“I— Yeah,” Zayn says. It comes out light, breathy and quiet but still audible given how close they’re standing. “More than okay, actually.”

Niall nods once, “Good,” before cupping his free hand behind Zayn’s ear and giving him a soft peck on the cheek. It’s quick, Niall’s lips gentle on his skin, and something settles warm in Zayn’s stomach.

“That’s good, too,” he says unnecessarily, considering they’re still grinning at each other like loons.

“More than okay, even?” Niall teases, pulling lightly on Zayn’s hand so they can start making their way after the boys.

“Definitely more than okay,” Zayn replies, voice sure and strong for the first time since Niall walked through the gate.

“I’m glad to hear that,” Niall says, thumb pressing into the soft spot above Zayn’s wrist. “Let’s go find the boys.”


	3. Chapter 3

Being with Niall is exactly how Zayn imagined it would be, but it’s easier to relax into than he thought. The warmth in his stomach has been a near constant since Niall first walked through the gates, and he had traced little circles around Zayn’s knuckles while they waited for his luggage.

They all cram themselves into Harry’s tiny car after managing to fit Niall’s suitcase into the trunk, and then they’re on their way home.

“Why didn’t we take Zayn’s car? It’s a clunker, but, like, your car is the size of a fucking matchbox.” 

Harry makes an offended noise and adjusts the rearview mirror so he can look at Louis with wide eyes. “There’s nothing wrong with my car, Lou. Niall should be in familiar surroundings for a while until he adjusts.”

Niall snorts from where his cheek is pressed into the car window, and Louis scoffs, “He’s not that fragile. He’s only been in space for six months.”

“He is that fragile, Louis. Space screws around with your body functions. You’re just grumpy because I called shotgun and now you’re stuck in the back,” Liam says. He’s still facing forward, but Zayn can see the side of his mouth pulled up in a grin. “How does it feel separating the lovebirds, by the way?”

“I fucking hate being the smallest. This was so poorly planned. I shouldn’t be in the middle,” Louis says. The way he’s leaned forward with either of his elbows on the front seats allows Zayn and Niall to lock eyes behind his back. Louis is glaring back at them, so Zayn mimes blowing Niall a kiss just to see him fake gag. He feels heat rush to his cheeks when Niall pretends to catch it like he always does, tapping his fingers lightly to his lips.

“They both get carsick in the middle,” Liam points out. “And even though Harry probably shouldn’t be driving, it’s his car so he kind of has dibs on it.”

Harry clicks through the radio until he lands on a classical station. “I’m a great driver,” he mutters. The turn signal has been ticking for the past two minutes, even though Harry hasn’t done so much as switch lanes since they got on the road 15 minutes ago. Zayn doesn’t point this out. Fuel to the fire and whatnot.

“You’re really not,” Liam replies. “But, Louis, just please deal with it, yeah? We’re only ten minutes away.”

“They’re disgusting, and I’m going to aim my vomit into your lap, Liam,” Louis says. “Zayn is like a stick; he should be here, not me.”

Turning away from Niall to glare daggers at Louis, Zayn says, “I am _not_ a stick.”

“Slender,” Niall says, giving Zayn a firm nod. “Not a stick.”

“Like a noodle,” Liam says, raising his hands so that his fingers are hovering close together and wiggles them slightly. Zayn supposes he’s trying to illustrate a noodle, and he’s not doing a very good job of it.

There’s a tap at his chin before Zayn can comment, though, and he turns back to face Niall. His hand lingers and his smile is soft when he says, “I do love pasta.”

Abruptly, Louis leans back, trapping Niall’s arm between his body and the seat. “That’s enough, thanks! Harry, you can reach the speed limit any time now.”

“I am driving the speed limit!”

“Well, you’re not going fast enough for me,” Louis snaps back at him, crossing his arms firmly. 

Niall’s hand is still hovering near Zayn’s cheek, what with Louis putting his entire weight back onto Niall’s forearm. When Zayn plucks up the courage to press a light kiss to his fingertips, Louis makes another loud gagging noise.

“Quick, Liam! Get him a plastic bag!” Harry yells, voice high and frantic.

While Liam digs through the glovebox and Louis continues to put on a show deserving of an award, Niall taps his fingers under Zayn’s jaw. The grin Zayn tries to send him behind Louis’ hair must be visible, then, because Niall traces a smiley face soft onto his cheek.

 

****

 

When Zayn wakes up, his head is hanging off the edge of the couch. They were originally going to go out for dinner to celebrate his birthday, but Niall looked like he was about to fall asleep on his feet, so the boys crashed in Zayn’s living room. There’s an infomercial muted on the TV even though upon looking around, Zayn finds that only Niall, Harry, and him are still in the room, and everyone else is still asleep. Liam and/or Louis presumably took Zayn's bed. It’s five in the morning according to the time display on the cable box.

Zayn rolls over and drops his arm down towards the floor, his hand falling inches from Niall’s face. His hair is ruffled and the blanket he has draped over him is only covering his thighs and part of his torso.

“Hey,” Zayn says, voice croaky. He manages to knock his knuckles into Niall’s shoulder. “Wake up. You were in space; you should have the couch.”

Niall groans and bats at Zayn’s hand. “Keep it. ‘S fine.”

It’s certainly _not_ fine. “You haven’t even gone home yet, which means you haven’t slept in a bed in six months. At least take the couch.”

Niall grumbles and pulls the blanket up under his chin. It doesn’t cover any part of his legs, now. “Don’t have a home. Was renting in Coquitlam before I left, ‘bout an hour away from Van, so I just moved. Was no point in keeping it.”

Niall’s words settle like rocks in his stomach. The idea of him not having an actual place to go home to is breaking Zayn’s heart a bit. Or a lot. “Where’s your stuff, though?” Zayn asks, voice soft.

“Sold it or gave it to Harry to hold on to. I have, like, a box or two at his place.”

They lapse into silence, the only sounds being the ticking of the clock and Zayn’s heartbeat loud in his own ears. He’s not sure if he should ask Niall if he knows where he’s going to live. More than that, Zayn’s not sure if it would be a good idea to ask Niall to stay with him, even though the thought sends his heart fluttering.

“Please come up.”

“I’ve been fine for six months in space, so I’m fine on the floor,” Niall says through a yawn. “Don’t wanna move, like. Really don’t.”

“No,” Zayn says. Even though he would love to roll over and pass out again, Niall shouldn’t be sleeping on the floor. “You’re an astronaut.”

“Doesn’t mean I deserve the couch more than you.”

“Does too,” Zayn counters, grasping at Niall’s hands until he gets a hold on a few of his fingers. He tugs at them weakly. “We could even share if you want, but please don’t sleep on the floor.”

Niall’s eyes crack open again and he sighs heavily. “Fine, but if I get any elbows to the face I’m going back down.” A yawn makes his jaw crack, and then he hauls himself to his feet.

“I’ll only elbow you below the chin. Promise,” Zayn says back blearily, pulling on Niall’s hand with more force now.

Obviously Niall’s muscles are weaker than they used to be, or maybe he just wasn’t expecting Zayn to pull as hard as he did, because he topples over and lands hard on top of Zayn’s torso, his collarbone knocking Zayn in the teeth. Air whooshes out of his lungs in a wheeze, and Niall muffles a pained chuckle into Zayn’s hair.

“Yeah, you’re right. This is definitely better.”

Zayn groans in response. It’s as if Niall’s waterlogged or something, because he looks far lighter than he is. He can’t complain, though, because Niall has only been back on Earth for two days and here Zayn is yanking him around like his center of gravity is that of the average person.

“Your elbow is in my ribs,” Niall says, shifting on top of him.

Chuckling and closing his eyes, Zayn replies, “That’s below the chin, so you can’t leave. Ha.”

Somehow, Niall manages to wiggle around so Zayn is tucked against his front. “There. No elbows.” He pulls at the blanket that’s draped over the back of the couch until it’s tucked over them both. Niall is warm, with his nose against Zayn’s neck and hand hesitantly tapping at his hip. “This okay?”

Zayn manages a, “ _Yes_ ,” in reply. Actually, Niall isn’t quite close enough.

It still doesn’t feel real, honestly. It seems totally probable that Zayn could blink and Niall would be gone, or that Zayn will wake up any second in his bed with Tiger pawing at his face.

Just in case, he links his fingers loosely with Niall’s before letting his drowsiness get the better of him.

 

****

 

Louis insists on actually celebrating Zayn’s birthday, so the next Saturday night they find themselves crowded into the same booth they’re always in. It’s only really meant for four people, but Harry grins like a loon and insists on cramming in beside them instead of pulling up a chair, which shoves Zayn and Niall together until Zayn’s almost on his lap.

The night is going well, he thinks.

“So, I’ve been thinking,” Niall starts, swirling his pinky around the rim of his bottle. “And I think it’s a good idea to find a place to live that’s closer to around here. Have to stop crashing at Harry’s and Louis’ places eventually.”

Louis cheers and leans over to smack Niall’s shoulder from across the table. “Great idea, man. Your old place was a dump.”

“Was not,” Harry argues. “It was just a little small. And a little far. Well, it’s not far in comparison to, you know,” Harry gestures upwards to the ceiling, indicating _space_ , presumably. “But it’s still a ways.”

“Thoughts?” Niall asks, turning towards Zayn. His face is flushed with excitement, and his eyes are sparkling like little stars. Zayn wants Niall to stay at his place like he did on his first night back, but Zayn knows that his heart is moving in fast forward as always. Instead of putting the suggestion out there, he finds himself nodding.

“That’s a good idea, I think,” he says. A smile blooms sunnily on Niall’s face and Zayn finds himself reflecting it back at him. _Like the moon_ , he thinks. Niall would appreciate the comparison, he’s sure. “Like, there are more job opportunities around here, right?”

Niall nods along. “I mean, definitely, yeah, but I’ve kind of already got the job part covered. I just need a place.”

Harry _ooh_ s loudly. Liam giggles at him and then turns to Niall, “Where at, man? You really work fast.”

“The space center,” Niall says, smile unwavering. “I’ll give tours and stuff, but mainly I’ll be in the observatory with all the telescopes. Giving commentary and talking space stuff, you know.”

Louis lets out an incoherent yell, chugs the rest of his drink and slams the empty glass back down onto the table. “This calls for even more celebration. More booze, I mean.”

Louis makes his way towards the bar, freeing up the space beside Liam. “Want to sit here until Lou gets back?” Liam asks, looking at Harry and patting at the seat with his hand.

Niall is still a warm weight at Zayn’s side, and he shifts enough to wrap his arm around Zayn’s shoulders. They fit together more comfortably, now, and the endearing way Harry looks at them makes Zayn’s cheeks flush.

“I think I’m all right here,” Harry says.

It’s only after many more rounds—Zayn loses count—and a piss-poor attempt on the boys’ part to sing him Happy Birthday that they finally call it a night. Zayn’s head is a bit light and foggy but he recognizes when Niall’s grins get sloppier as time goes on. 

“Wait, wait,” Niall laughs as they’re stumbling their way outside. It’s fucking freezing out, and Zayn’s admittedly glad Niall made him wear a scarf. “I don’t have, like. We didn’t discuss. Where— Who am I crashing with?”

Louis either doesn’t hear the question or doesn’t care, as he continues walking with one arm on the wall of the bar and the other out waving for a taxi. Liam’s eyebrows go characteristically furrowed.

“Like, really? I thought you were just moving between Harry’s and Louis’ for now because it was easier, or because they wouldn’t let you leave—” Liam cuts himself off in favour of gripping hard at Harry’s shirt and yanking him out of the way of a stop sign he’s heading towards.

“Was that pole there last week?”

“Always was, actually,” Liam says, rolling his eyes. He lets go of Harry’s shirt and Harry continues skipping down the sidewalk after Louis.

Zayn gets distracted when Niall pulls them closer together. It’s with a quick squeeze around Zayn’s torso that Niall says, “Yeah, it’s quite the situation. Can stay at Harry’s, or someone’s.”

Their fingers just fit so nicely together, is the thing. The streetlights are glinting off of Zayn’s rings and Niall’s thumb moves to press warmly against his wrist just, as he did at the airport. The idea from earlier—the _ask him to stay_ that had been on the tip of his tongue—runs through his head again, and Zayn’s had enough alcohol now that he lets it fly.

“You can stay with me, if you want.”

Liam raises his eyebrows at them before he apparently decides that this conversation isn’t one he needs to be a part of and walks ahead. Niall, however, has slowed, and is using his grip on Zayn’s hand to pull them both to a stop in the sidewalk.

“It’s really freezing out, you know,” Zayn says, shifting so more of his side is pressed against Niall. It’s a miracle he’s not blushing. “I know it’s not even that bad, but, like, relatively it is. For me.”

Niall laughs at him but doesn’t comment. “You want me to stay with you,” is what he says instead. It’s only the softness in Niall’s voice that stops Zayn from backtracking, laughing it all off. His buzz is lowering his guard, though, and the thoughts that come tumbling out might be the most serious that either of them have voiced since Niall landed.

“I know that I’m prone to moving too fast, getting in too deep and stuff. My mom gives me hell about it, says I’d fall in love with just a smile, you know,” Zayn says, quiet laughter bubbling out after without permission. It comes out more quiet than he means it to. Half of him wants Niall to hear his words, and the other half hopes the night swallows them whole.

Clearing his throat, with his heartbeat loud in his ears and his eyes trained on a spot just above Niall’s ear, Zayn continues. “It’s just that… We’ve sort of missed out on a lot of time we could have spent with each other these past four months, you know? And, like, I want to make up for it.”

He manages to meet Niall’s eyes again, and they’re wide and shining, grin blinding. “So, you’re saying you’d let me crash at yours while I do apartment hunting?”

 _I’d let you stay._ “If you want, yeah,” Zayn says, smile tugging at his lips when Niall’s hand squeezes his own. “I mean, the video store let me keep _Space Jam_ , and there are so many good shows on Netflix that you haven’t seen, I’m sure.”

“Oh yeah?” Niall laughs, eyes crinkling.

“Yeah, definitely,” Zayn says, head nodding perhaps a bit too earnestly. Niall’s nose scrunches up, and Zayn tries to tame his expression before continuing. “I mean, if that’s something you want, while you look for a place. Offer’s on the table, at least.”

Niall looks at him consideringly. Zayn’s heart is lodged in his throat, but Niall simply starts tugging them towards the taxis that the other boys managed to flag down. The hesitation might have worried him in any other circumstance, but if there’s anything he’s learned over the past few months, it’s that Niall takes his time with the big things. The important things.

“It’s only, like, three degrees right now,” Niall says idly. “Not horribly cold.”

“I still don’t get Celcius,” Zayn mumbles back. Niall giggles at him, but doesn’t say anything else. He’ll have to Google what that is in Fahrenheit later.

There are two cabs parked in front of them, and Louis is waiting in front of one with his eyebrow raised. Harry’s feet are still sticking out of the cab, presumably flopped on his belly across the back seats. They’re waiting to see if Niall is going with them. A feeling settles sour in his stomach, and Zayn realizes that he wants nothing more than for Niall to not get into that cab.

The feeling clears quickly, though, because Niall sends them off with a wave and follows him into the second cab with Liam. They haven’t stopped holding hands since they left the bar, and the thought brings a grin to Zayn’s face.

Zayn starts babbling as soon as they walk through the apartment door.

“So, one of us can take the couch and the other can stay in my room. The heater sometimes doesn’t work properly but I have a bunch of extra blankets in the hall closet,” he says this all as his feet carry him down the hall, even though Niall is still in the entranceway with his shoes on and definitely can’t hear him anymore. It’s like he needs to keep moving, though. The anxiety will eat him alive it he stops too long, it feels like.

Who asks a guy to stay with them when they’ve only met in person less than a week prior? _God_ , Niall probably thinks Zayn’s lost it. Maybe.

When Zayn makes his way back out from his room, Niall has at least migrated into the living room. “My mom keeps sending me them so I have a bunch. Also, um, I have pillows? Comfier pillows. Firm or soft pillows. All kinds, really, because my mom is like that.”

Niall stops him, tugs the pillows and blankets from his hands and starts setting up camp on the couch. “Zayn, whatever you have is perfect, I promise. I’ll take the couch; I’m more than happy to.”

“You don’t have to,” Zayn starts, but it’s halfhearted since he’s fighting back a yawn. “The thing really can screw up your back sometimes. It’s lumpy and not, like, the comfiest.”

“I’ll be fine,” Niall insists. “You, however, look like you’re about to drop. You should get some water and then head off. Can’t have you being all zombie-like tomorrow. I’ll get myself sorted and we can talk in the morning, yeah?”

He wants to argue it further, because the couch really is hell to sleep on—and now that he’s thinking about it, why did he offer Niall his shitty couch?—but his vision is going fuzzy, and Niall will be here when he wakes up. With that thought in mind, he nods, accepts the warm squeeze Niall gives his shoulder, and heads to his room.

Just before his head hits the pillow, his phone vibrates on his nightstand. He muffles a groan into his pillow —lest Niall hear it, _God_ —and sends off a reply before passing out.

_**Louis** : take him out to see uranus ;) ;) !!!!!_

_**Zayn** : u already used that one. fuck offf._

 

****

 

Niall makes him tea in the morning.

“You didn’t have to get up with me,” Zayn says around a yawn. “Like, really, you didn’t have to.”

“Eh,” Niall shrugs. He gently slides a mug across the counter along with a chocolate chip muffin on some tiny plate Zayn forgot he even owned. Niall waits for Zayn to grab both before pulling his hands away. “Wanted to. It’s the least I can do. If your offer from last night is still on the table, I’d like to stay here while I apartment hunt. Like I can pay half of the rent and stuff.”

The tea is made how he likes it when he takes a sip, even though Zayn only ever remembers mentioning what he takes with it to Niall one time in passing. That knowledge warms him more than the drink does.

“You don’t owe me anything,” Zayn replies. This is something he imagines he could get used to. He feels like he’s overflowing with fondness already and this is just day one.

At that, Niall snorts and rolls his eyes. There’s what looks to be cinnamon and sugar together in one of Zayn’s tupperware containers, and Niall puts the lid on and starts to shake it when he says, “I know. This is a thank you. Also, you seem like the type to not actually eat breakfast, so when I turn around that muffin better be nothing but crumbs.”

Niall speaks firmly, so Zayn decides to drop the subject for now, starts picking at the paper. “How are you going to eat that, like-?”

“With butter on toast, hopefully,” Niall says. His eyebrows furrow, and his shaking slows slightly. “You have bread and butter, right? Louis sort of led me to believe you just eat take-out all the time. Thought it was bullshit, but like…”

“I have bread and butter, yeah,” Zayn says back. The mug is half-empty, now, and he should go and get ready for work, really, but he doesn’t want to leave Niall. Especially when he’s rummaging around in Zayn’s fridge, humming and shaking his hips a bit. 

“I can feel you staring,” Niall says, words aimed at a container of orange juice. “And I know you have to leave soon, so you should go and get ready. I’ll be here when you get back.”

Slowly, Zayn nods, then gets up from his seat. Niall has the dirty dishes stacked in neat little piles, and Zayn adds his to the mix. It’s all quite domestic. Waking up isn’t easy for Zayn, though, so he’s still blinking sleep out of his eyes when Niall says, quietly, “Wait.”

“Oh. Wrong pile?” Zayn says, lifting his plate slightly. “Don’t want to mess up your system.”

Niall shuts the fridge behind it, leans against it and shrugs. “No, no. The plate is fine,” he says. “I just wanted to, like. Ask… what gallery you work at?”

Niall also looks oddly embarrassed to ask, his cheeks are tinted pink, so Zayn doesn’t point it out. “Vancouver Art Gallery,” he says. “The one on Hornby.”

“Hornby, Hornby. Got it,” Niall nods, drumming his fingers on the fridge handle. “Just wondering.”

Zayn smiles and nods before retreating back into his room. He’ll probably be late, but that’s something he’ll deal with later. For now, Niall is clanking around in his kitchen and Zayn can’t wipe the smile off of his face.

 

****

 

At 1:15pm, Niall shows up with Subway and a mega-watt grin. He’s wearing a NASA shirt, and the bag slung over his shoulder is the one Zayn knows is covered in buttons with planets and space puns on them.

“Um, this very loud man says he would like to see you,” Gigi says, rolling her eyes. It’s quite funny, looking at how she’s visibly struggling not to smile around Niall. Zayn knows the feeling.

“Hey, Zayno!” Niall says, beaming brightly at him when Gigi steps out of the break room. “Bought you a sub. Liam told me you don’t like pickles, olives, or pork, but I got, like, everything else on it. Lots of lettuce. Pick off whatever else you don’t want.”

When he gently unwraps the sandwich, it’s so packed with lettuce that it spills over the edge of the paper. It’s ridiculous, and Niall looks endearingly pleased with himself.

“‘S good for you,” Niall says, nodding seriously. “I won’t let you live on just take-out.”

“He doesn’t eat lunch, actually.” Jade skips through the doorway, smile bright. “It’s more like a tiny snack. Doesn’t count as even half a meal.”

Niall gasps at him, and Zayn stares at Jade intensely, as if he can make her uncomfortable enough for her to leave. She’s pretty immune to it, though, and she sends him a smug grin before rummaging around in her bag.

“That’s a lie,” Zayn says. He takes a bite of the sub, though, because he wants to. It’s unrelated to the look Niall is giving him. 

“Eat up,” Niall tsks, adjusting the strap of his backpack. 

“I will,” Zayn says. And it’s the truth, this time. He’s sure the only options he has in this situation is to eat or to let the guilt of not eating it and lying about it eat _him_. “Pinky promise.” 

They link their pinkies, both wearing matching, wide smiles, and Gigi gags from where she’s still in the doorway.

“Time’s almost up, lovebirds,” she says. “Paul is coming by in a few seconds, and he doesn’t like guests in the back.”

“Right, right, sorry,” Niall says, chuckling softly and withdrawing his hand to scratch at the back of his neck. “I’ll see you at home, yeah? The boys were asking to meet at the bar later, before my shift at ten, if that’s all right with you.”

Zayn nods in a hurry. “Yeah, definitely. See you.” 

And Niall doesn’t hug or kiss him goodbye, or anything, but the little wave and smile he sends Zayn as he walks back out of the break room fills him with warmth as if he had. He definitely spilled sauce on his button-up, and Jade and Gigi won’t stop cooing and rolling their eyes at him, respectively.

Still, it feels like the best day he’s had in a long while.

 

****

 

The routine continues, most days.

Niall brings him lunch at work, which is Subway the majority of the time, and the girls poke fun at Zayn until his shift ends. He gets home to Niall napping on the couch—and sometimes to Harry, who has taken to utilizing the spare key more days than not—sports highlights playing on the TV with the volume low. Some nights they go out to the bar with the others, and some nights they don’t make it off the couch until Niall himself has to leave for work.

When Zayn wakes up, Niall always makes him tea, and it’s always perfect.

 

****

 

It’s after three weeks of tiptoeing around each other—of gentle hugs, cheek kisses, and just-too-long touches—that things start to actually transition into something more.

As always, they’re crammed into one corner of the bar. 

“Yeah, Sophia is moving out within the week,” Liam mumbles, taking another swig of the bottle. “She’s, like, staying with a friend, or something.”

Niall clicks his tongue, sympathetic. “That’s tough, man. It’ll get easier for you, I hope. Time should do it.” He puts his hand gently on Liam’s shoulder, and Liam deflates, frowning into his beer. Absently, Liam is scratching at Harry’s scalp where it’s laying in his lap. Zayn thinks they should both cut themselves off of the booze soon.

Liam frowns. “It sucks. I mean, I guess it’s nice that neither of us have to look for a new place. God, that’s hellish, apartment-hunting.”

Louis makes a noise in his throat. “Enough moping, boys. How’s looking for an apartment going for you, Ni?”

It’s a miracle if Niall doesn’t notice the way Zayn tenses all over, and if Niall does, he at least doesn’t mention it. Zayn got caught up in it all, is the thing. He got so wound up in their routine, the way they fit into each other’s lives so easily and comfortably that he forgot that Niall was only going to be his roommate temporarily. Something pangs in Zayn’s stomach too forcefully for him to ignore.

“Shit’s expensive,” Niall says, shrugging easily. “Or, it’s cheap but too far, which makes it expensive. Haven’t quite found a place that would work. I’ll find something, I’m sure.”

“There’s no rush,” Zayn mumbles. It’s quiet enough that only Louis can hear the comment, and only because Zayn turns his head away from Niall as he says it. Louis narrows his eyes. _Don’t bring it to attention. Don’t say anything. Don’t, don’t, don’t._

“Yeah, I’m sure you’ll find a nice place soon,” Louis says, dragging his gaze from Zayn back to Niall.

Niall shrugs, tracing his finger through a ring of condensation on the table. “Might have to settle for a place farther away, but, like, I can just add a few more buses to my route and it should be fine.”

“Or it might not be fine,” Louis counters. He sends Zayn a look that makes Zayn’s heart climb into his throat before he’s directing his attention back to Niall. “Transit is horribly unreliable. It’s got a shitty reputation. It’d be better to wait it out and find something nice and close.”

When Zayn looks back at Niall, he’s already nodding and saying softly, “You’re right, yeah. I’ll stay close if I can.”

It’s only when the two of them are pressed unnecessarily close in the back of a cab at the end of the night, giggly drunk, that Zayn speaks what he’s been thinking since Louis brought up apartment hunting. He speaks purposely soft, as if by doing so it’ll seem less massive and frightening and _too much_.

“You could always stay.” It sounds— _dammit_ —not how Zayn wanted it to sound.

Niall stops poking at Zayn’s face, giggles dying in his throat. He looks at Zayn seriously, eyebrows furrowed in that contemplative, serious way that Niall rarely looks. He doesn’t reply. Instead, Niall chooses to pull his hand away from Zayn’s cheek and sets it down in his own lap. 

_I just mean I don’t want you to go too far_ , Zayn thinks, but he flounders and can’t get the words out. Zayn wishes he weren’t so drunk. He wishes he could take the words back. Mostly, he wishes the driver would go faster.

 

****

 

The next morning—it’s Zayn’s day off, so it’s actually the afternoon—Niall still makes him tea. Zayn smiles at him gratefully. He hopes Niall takes it as the apology that he’s trying to make it to be.

“Thank you,” Zayn says, throat like sandpaper. “Hangover isn’t too bad. How’re you?”

Niall takes a bite out of his cinnamon-sugar toast and washes it down with a swig of tea. “That’s because I practically forced water down your throat at the end of the night. You stubborn drunk, you.” Niall snorts, rolling his eyes. It’d come off as a proper scolding if Niall wasn’t smiling, if he wasn’t still soft around the edges.

There’s a memory of that in his brain, but it’s fuzzy. Previously discarded in favour of how bright Niall’s eyes were when he laughed at Harry’s horrible jokes, the warmth of Niall pressed into Zayn’s side and the fluttery feeling he got when Niall stifled his giggles in his shoulder. 

“Think I remember that. Vaguely, but I’ll take your word for it,” Zayn says, sipping his own tea. It smooths his voice out, but only slightly. “But that’s a ‘no’ to the hangover, then?”

Niall shrugs, running his plate under the tap. “Nah, not me. My Irish genes do me well.”

Zayn rolls his eyes at him, thwacking him with a discarded tea towel. “That’s not how it works, man.”

“Whatever,” Niall waves off. “I’m not hungover, is the point. I have work in two hours, so thank God.”

Embarrassingly, Zayn’s first thought is that Niall is trying to escape talking with Zayn about moving in. Or not moving in, more likely. Not like Zayn would bring it up, though, what with how anxious he gets just thinking about their cab ride home. “So soon?”

“Cal asked me to start early,” Niall replies. “Birthday party. They booked an overnight and Laura is too sick to come in, so they need the help.” Awkwardly, Niall coughs. He looks away before continuing. “Staying at Harry’s tonight. He’s been _missing me terribly_ , apparently.”

“Ah, sounds like fun,” Zayn manages through the lump in his throat. Niall’s been staying at his place on and off for the past three weeks—at Zayn’s most of the time and at Louis’ or Harry’s the rest of it—so surely it’s no big deal that he’s spending a night at Harry’s. It _is_ no big deal.

Niall nods, grinning tightly and not quite making eye contact. Zayn’s heart sinks down into his gut.

“Well you should, like, go soon then,” Zayn adds. He’s probably coming off as dismissive, but he can’t find it in himself to try and act cheery. “TransLink really does suck; Louis is right about that.”

“Right,” Niall murmurs. After dumping the rest of his tea down the sink, he makes his way back around the island and towards the closet he decided he’d shove his things into two weeks back.

Zayn sits and listens to Niall rustling around behind him. He decidedly doesn’t move, for some reason. Everything feels horrifyingly breakable. It’s everything that being with Niall, Skype and otherwise, has never felt like. 

There’s a zipping noise that’s presumably the bag Niall is packing for Harry’s, and then there’s a warm press on Zayn’s shoulder.

“I need a bit of time. Just to sort some things out. We’re fine, I promise,” Niall mumbles beside him. 

His chin on Zayn’s shoulder is their only point of contact, but it’s enough. More than, even. Something in him deflates, a bit, and Zayn can sort of breathe again. Zayn’s the one who suggested they wade into deeper water, even though he hadn’t exactly meant to. 

Louis would make fun of him for making a swimming analogy when Zayn himself is afraid of water, Zayn thinks. If Louis knew he was making it, that is.

“Just want you to not move far away,” Zayn says. His shrug jostles Niall’s chin a bit.

“Still have to think it all through. I’ll be back soon.”

“Pinky promise?” Zayn tries weakly, holding up his pinky.

Not a second passes before Niall takes it with his own. “Pinky promise.”

Niall shuts the door softly behind him, and Zayn lasts about an hour before he caves and calls his mom.

“Hello?”

“Hey, Mom,” Zayn says, scrubbing at his eyes. “How’re you doing?”

“I’m all right, sunshine,” she replies, voice soft and calming as always. “How are you, huh?”

Zayn sighs. “I… I think I screwed up. With Niall.”

She clicks her tongue and murmurs back an, _Oh, sweetheart_. Quickly, Zayn’s eyes start stinging. What he wouldn’t give to be in Arizona for just a few minutes right now. It’s with a small jolt that Zayn realizes he doesn’t think of Arizona as home anymore; that he thinks of this rainy Vancouver apartment, too-crowded bars, and these loud, bright boys as his home. Even if it feels off, like he’s missing something.

“It’s the usual, like,” Zayn starts, pausing to take a deep breath. It rattles around in his ribs. “He started staying with me three weeks ago, and last night I told him he could stay, like, _stay_ stay. Didn’t mean to, just wanted him to not move, like, an hour away.”

Trisha tuts at him again, and it surprisingly makes him laugh. “It’s just how you are, Zayn,” she says. “You don’t do anything in halves.”

“Wish I did.”

A laugh sounds through the phone, and it makes Zayn smile in a way that doesn’t feel pinched and bittersweet at the edges. “It’s not always a bad thing! I mean, look at you now. You made some risky decisions, sure, but you sound so much better now, sweetheart.”

“That’s true,” Zayn says. Tiger plops himself onto his lap, meows until Zayn starts scratching at his ears. “Think I freaked him out a bit, though. He told me he’s staying at Harry’s tonight.”

Trisha replies, “Give him some time. Maybe he’ll stay, or maybe he won’t. Do you think things will change for the worse if he does move?”

Thinking about the kiss Niall gave him earlier, the way his eyebrows furrowed in thought back in the cab last night, and Zayn knows they won’t. “Not really. Maybe. I don’t know.” 

“I’m sure it’ll all be fine,” his mom says, tone already bright and happy again. “Maybe, just, think about these kinds of things more carefully next time?”

“Yeah, I will,” Zayn says. “I’ll wait at _least_ five weeks, next time. Swear.”

“Cheeky,” she says, laugh still in her voice. “How long did last time- with Perrie?”

His nose scrunches at the memory. “It was, like… two months before I asked her to get serious.”

“And it’s been longer than that with Niall already, even if not in physical form. See? This time is already different. It’ll all work out.”

Zayn nods at her words as they settle in his chest. Warm and light. “I know it will. Love you, mom.”

 

****

 

Since Niall is gone the next morning, Zayn wakes up and makes his own food. It’s not a proper breakfast, and his tea doesn’t taste quite right.

“Give him some time, you big sappy mope,” Jade says, arms slung around his shoulders. “He’ll come around. You did, like, just drop that on him, by the sounds of it. He just needs time to process.” 

“Yeah,” Zayn says. He does get it, honestly, but he forgot a lunch as per usual, and there was no one to bring any food to him. So he’s grumpy; sue him.

Jade checks her watch quickly, patting at his shoulder again before standing up. “You guys are really cute, though. Like, you never stop smiling and it’s disgusting, but nice, you know.”

“Right,” Zayn replies. His cheeks are burning, although hopefully not visibly. It’s true, though, about the smiling; he’s felt the ache in his cheeks to prove it. 

“You’ll figure it out, so stop pouting!” Jade shouts. She sends him one big smile and a thumbs up before backing out of the break room. 

With a grumbling stomach, Zayn looks at his phone quickly—at the last text Harry sent him, reading, _I’ll take care of him! Don’t worry :)_ —before pocketing it and following after her.

 

****

 

“Do you really think Niall would move? Like, away from us?” Zayn asks. The bar is packed as per usual, and they’ve had to settle for sitting at a table instead of the booth they usually try for. It’s strange to have everyone able to fit onto the four chairs.

Louis snorts, and the lights of the bar reflect in his eyes as he rolls them. “He’s been staying at Harry’s for _one day_ , Zayn. Chill out.”

Beside him, Harry nods. Eyes wide and earnest, he says, “I wouldn’t worry, like. He’s just trying to sort things out in his head, you know? Niall sort of needs his own space—ha, _space_ —so he can organize his thoughts. Even if it seems like he’s really carefree and stuff.”

God, Zayn’s such an idiot. “So, does he think I’m moving too fast?”

“Well, you are, to be fair,” Harry says. “But this isn’t really your everyday situation, you know? Because, like, he doesn’t have a place to stay. So it makes sense. Sort of. You’re dating, so it makes sense for him to stay with you, but not really, like. In a permanent sort of way.”

Zayn groans. “ _Sort of_ dating. God, I’m not even sure, like. It feels like we are, but it also doesn’t. We never really talk about it.”

“So talk about it,” Liam says, shrugging lightly. “Clear the air so you don’t have to be without each other for days on end.”

“I don’t like dealing with mopes, Zayn,” says Louis. “Especially for preventable reasons. God, it’s like you’re just dancing around each other.”

“I _can’t_ dance.”

Harry’s laugh bursts out of him like he can’t help it, and Louis mutters, “Yeah, we know.”

 

****

 

 _ ** **Zayn**** : don’t tell Niall i’m asking you this but_

_****Zayn**** : is he coming home soon? do you know?_

_****Harry**** : “Home” you say? ;)_

_****Zayn**** : god_

_****Zayn**** : I hate you so much._

_****Harry**** : Aw :(_

_****Zayn**** : I meant is he going to start staying with me again or is he staying with you?_

_****Harry**** : He’s been sitting and thinking too much so I’ll kick him out soon, don’t worry :)_

_****Zayn**** : well you dont have to do that..._

_****Harry**** : Yes, he’ll go home soon. Stop worrying! :)_

 

****

 

Two days later, Zayn wakes up to the kettle whistling. It’s too fucking early—just after seven in the morning—and he doesn’t have work today, but he gets up anyways. And there’s Niall in the kitchen. Zayn doesn’t even try to stop the grin from spreading across his face.

“Good morning,” Niall says, beaming as Zayn plops down on a barstool. It feels like Zayn’s ribs aren’t pressing too hard against his lungs anymore and he can breathe properly again, seeing him smile. But that’s ridiculous, so he doesn’t mention it.

“Morning. How’ve you been?” Zayn takes the mug Niall hands to him, cradling it in his hands.

“I’m all right, I guess.” They usually have their morning talks from opposite sides of the island, but now Niall walks around until he’s standing next to Zayn, sliding a muffin across the counter as he does. “Depends on whether or not you’ve been eating proper meals. Like breakfast and lunch.”

A guilty smile tugs at Zayn’s lips, and he feels warm all over. “Well-”

“Just tea doesn’t count as a meal,” Niall interrupts. His voice is stern but he’s still smiling softly at Zayn, so he tells the truth.

“Nah, I haven’t been, really.” 

Niall throws his hands up in mock frustration. “ _What_ am I going to do with you? I’ll have to go through your phone, find Mrs. Malik’s number and give her a call. Introduce myself and bond over how awful this habit of yours is.”

Zayn rolls his eyes but can’t think of a response that isn’t _she already loves you_. 

“So,” Niall starts. He leans one elbow on the counter, and by doing so shifts slightly closer to Zayn. His heart thumps wildly at the serious look on Niall’s face, but he nods at him to continue, anyways. 

“So.”

“Do you have time to talk? Like, soon? Doesn’t have to be now.”

Despite the fact that his eyes are still burning with how tired he is, Zayn nods. “Now is all right. I don’t work today.”

“Right, right,” Niall mumbles. He pulls out the other bar stool and sits on it. Their knees are touching just a bit; Zayn tries really hard not to overthink it.

“I’m sorry if I freaked you out, last week,” Zayn starts. Apologies are good starts, right? “I was drunk and while, like, that’s not the only reason I wanted to ask you, it is the only reason that I did. I know it’s too soon to be, like, _moving in_ , but you can definitely just stay at mine. For however long.”

Niall’s eyebrows raise slightly. Maybe Niall’s knee is pressing more firmly against Zayn’s now, he thinks, so he pushes on.

“Like, I just don’t want you to be too far, is the thing. I tend to jump right into things and get ahead of myself, but this whole thing is like uncharted territory. At least for me, that is.” Zayn takes a deep breath in. There’s a crumb on the counter that he’s been focusing on, but now he forces himself to look up at Niall.

“I just thought it’d be easier on both of us, because apartment hunting is hard and Google says that Vancouver is the third most unaffordable housing market—which is ridiculous—so sharing the rent would make sense, right? Also, I kind of really love spending time with you. Wanna make up for all that we lost, in a way.”

When Zayn finally finishes his sort-of-speech, heart in his throat, Niall slowly nods. Zayn takes it as an agreement and consciously tries to make himself relax. What a feat, that is.

“I get that, yeah,” says Niall. “I just wasn’t really sure where we were standing, y’know? Because we haven’t talked about it. And, like, my emotions were all over the place, so I wanted to sort them out first. Just so that I wouldn’t do something rash, or anything like that. I’m still thinking about stuff, but we have time to talk about it, so I’m not worried if you aren’t.”

Zayn nods quickly, perhaps too agreeably, but he doesn’t really care. “That’s totally okay. I’m glad we’re talking now, at least.”

He smiles again, and it’s like a puzzle piece pressing into place. “Yeah, me too.”

“So, this is a thing for you, too, right?” Zayn asks. His face flames up again. “Like, dating? Relationship-y stuff? Because from my end I’d like to be—um, in a relationship. You know, if you want.”

Niall laughs, loud and cackling, and he looks at Zayn partially fond and partially like he’s out of his mind. “Yes, Zayn. We can make it Facebook official if you want.” He pauses, nose crinkling before adding, “Do people still do that? I was gone for, like, awhile.”

“Don’t use Facebook much, so ‘m not sure either,” Zayn says, giggling along with him. “I’m fine with this, though. Boyfriends.”

“Boyfriends,” Niall echoes, grinning wide. He tiptoes his fingers along the countertop to where Zayn’s hand is, palm up, and links them together. “So, _boyfriend_ , did you want to go on a date with me this Saturday? I already have the night planned out, so please say yes.”

It’s difficult to roll his eyes at Niall when he’s smiling this hard and feels this happy, Zayn finds. “Of course. I would’ve said yes anyways, Niall.”

“Good,” Niall says firmly. 

 

****

 

The next night—Valentine's Day, actually—Zayn and Niall meet the other boys at the bar. Niall says, lips on Zayn’s ear, that he’s going to grab them all drinks and that Zayn should go ahead, so he does. Not before Niall plants a light kiss against his cheek, though, so when Zayn reaches the booth, his smile is hurting his cheeks with the force of it.

Louis claps embarrassingly when Zayn approaches while Liam and Harry stay quiet, thank God.

“Ah, look, boys! Mopey isn’t moping anymore,” Harry says when Zayn sits down next to him, squeezing his shoulder lightly. “We’ll have to give you a new dwarf name, man.”

“How about ‘Sappy’?” Liam says, smiling as he makes fun of him.

“Disgustingly-in-love-y,” says Louis, snorting and leaning across the table to twist Zayn’s nose. 

It takes Niall a moment to work out setting the drinks down without dropping any, but once he does, he looks at Zayn and coos. “Aw,” he says, slinging an arm around Zayn’s shoulders. “You look cute when you scrunch your nose. Grumpy?”

“Nose hurts,” Zayn says, putting on an exaggerated frown.

Still, Niall _ahh_ s like this makes sense, and tucks Zayn more firmly into his side. He feels content and warm. For a second he considers thanking Harry, but Louis would probably never let him live it down, so Zayn drops it. Later.

“By the way, Niall, I’m kicking you out and banning you from our apartments on all of our behalves,” Louis says, gesturing to himself, Liam, and Harry. “I mean, we all just suddenly realized that we don’t have the room for you.”

“And I think Zayn’s cat would be upset if you left, anyways,” Harry says, nodding as if he’s looking out for Tiger’s best interests.

“Thanks, boys,” Niall says, rolling his eyes. “I appreciate that.”

“So, you two are all smiley and gross again,” Louis says, resting his chin on his folded hands, as if he’s really endeared by them. “Storm has passed, hm?”

Harry flings out his arms a bit, then, almost smacking Zayn in the face. “They’re going on a _date_ this weekend!” he says. It might be the happiest Zayn’s seen him, and Zayn thinks way back when Harry set him and Niall up. He remembers thinking that Harry was probably in love with love, and Zayn realizes now that he was right.

“Don’t spoil the surprise, man,” Niall says, stretching his arm so he can flick at Harry’s ear. “Spoiler-free zone, here.”

Surprises aren’t usually things Zayn is fond of, but Niall’s thumb is rubbing lightly against his collarbone and his smile is all sunny, so. He can make an exception, he’s sure.

“I won’t, I won’t,” Harry insists, eyes wide and earnest. “It’s a perfect surprise, and I wouldn’t ruin it.”

“Aw, _surprises_ ,” Louis coos, sarcastic as anything. “Especially gross.”

Liam scolds him with an, “ _Annoying isn’t a good look on anyone, man_ ,” but the way he’s chuckling takes away from the overall effect. Zayn’s burning, a bit.

“I think you mean that I’m _caring_ and _sweet_. Don’t worry, boys. I’ll refrain from being at your apartment when you get back,” Harry says, trying to wink at Niall. It comes out horribly-exaggerated—one eye fully closing and the other squinting—and it’s so unsubtle Zayn wonders if the bartender saw it. Or the security camera in the far, far, far corner.

Subtle or not, Niall acts like it was the slyest move in the world, and expresses a far-too-genuine, “ _Thank you_ ,” in response. It makes Zayn’s heart hammer in his chest. He wonders if Niall can feel it on his palm.

“In fact, your date will be out of thi-”

“Do you not have any space puns other than ‘ _out of this world_ ,’ hm?” Louis interrupts, leaning forward on his elbows. The bottle in front of him almost tips over, and Liam has to lunge forward to save it from spilling. “I’ve heard that hundreds of times since Niall told us he was going to be leaving, I swear to God.”

At that Zayn can’t help himself from snorting. Niall’s shaking with laughter already, so when he starts speaking he’s already smiling wide. “That’s real rich coming from you. Fucking _Uranus_.”

“Isn’t that what Harry’s trying to avoid witnessing?” Liam’s efforts of holding back his smile are top-notch, honestly. He deserves some sort of award for not breaking face.

The boys’ laughter is loud and cackling and unrestrained, though, after a few seconds. When Zayn leans in to talk to Niall, his lips are practically on his ear. They’re giggling, even if it’s against his will in Zayn’s case.

“We need new friends. Ones that aren’t sex-obsessed and unfunny.”

Niall grins down at him, chucks his chin lightly. “Nah,” he says through his chuckles. “Nah, we don’t. They got one thing right, at least. Can’t leave them after that.”

 

****

 

Zayn gets home on Saturday to Niall bustling around tidying up the apartment. He’s blurring in Zayn’s vision, a bit, but he clears up for a second as he pauses to peck Zayn on the cheek.

“Hey, Zayno. Dress code is semi-formal. But by that I mean formal. And by that, I mean please wear that one suit I found in your closet. _Please_. We can leave whenever you’re ready. Reservations are for eight-thirty. Late, I know, but I have reasons. Unless that’s too late. Then, in that case, um. Whenever is fine, too. Time isn’t super important, right? Ha.”

Another blink and Niall is a blur again, hurrying over to the vacuum cleaner that Zayn forgot he owned—Niall must have cleaned pretty thoroughly in order to find it—and untangling the cord. The apartment was barely clean enough to get by when it was just Zayn, and it’s been clean and organized since Niall started staying with him, but now it more or less sparkles.

“What’s all this?” Zayn asks, slowly. He can’t take his eyes off of Niall. His movements are jerky and fast, like he’ll jerk right out of his skin if he stops for even a second. “You bringing the President over or something?”

Pausing for only a second, Niall looks up with something resembling wistfulness in his expression. “ _God_ , I wish. Miss my Obama statue.”

“Right, right,” Zayn says. “Where would we put that? We could hang him in the closet, maybe. You got those, like, industrial hangers.”

One of the things Niall has bought since starting to stay with Zayn are hangers. It’s not like Zayn didn’t have hangers before—because he _did_ —but he didn’t have enough, for sure. Now, he hangs his coat in the closet, and apparently Niall’s arranged the shoes, too.

“Eight-thirty is good, um. Okay, seriously though, this is a bit more than, uh, usual,” Zayn says. Did Niall buy a Swiffer? Zayn doesn’t remember ever having a Swiffer.

“I’m just—uh,” Niall pauses finally, lets out this burst of jittery laughter and runs shaky fingers through his hair. “I’m, like, nervous? It’s not even that bad, honestly, but cleaning, um. It helps.”

That makes sense, and Zayn’s worries cease, a bit. “That’s all right. I have feather dusters under the bathroom sink, if you wanted those,” he says. 

“I already found them, but thank you,” Niall says back, sending Zayn a wide, sunny smile. “You take ages to do your hair, so you should go shower in your now-sparkling bathroom. Just so we don’t run _too_ too late.”

“Sparkling, huh?” says Zayn, turning away as Niall makes shooing gestures at him. It’s not like Zayn can argue with that when it’s true. “I’ll be the judge of that.”

Niall’s responding laugh follows him down the hallway.

 

****

 

Zayn’s hair does take an unusually long time, but Niall tells him it was worth it when they settle in at their reserved restaurant table, so Zayn can’t feel too sorry about it.

“Told you I’d proper wine and dine you, Mr. Malik,” Niall says, speaking with some faux accent that sounds pretentious and posh. He swirls his champagne around in his glass before taking a generous gulp, coughing and spluttering slightly after. It makes Zayn snort.

“Oh, yeah. Real posh,” says Zayn, laughing lightly. When he takes a smaller, more _reasonable_ sip, he makes sure to look Niall in the eye pointedly.

Sighing loudly and rolling his eyes, Niall tugs at the lapels of his jacket. “I am so posh right now. Look, I’m wearing a tie and everything.”

“I had to tie it for you in the cab,” Zayn replies, grinning. “And untie it, for that matter, since you had it so knotted.”

“Hush,” Niall says, but his voice has a laugh in it, and Zayn can’t help but giggle back. “Doesn’t make me less posh.”

Zayn shrugs, but looks down at the menu anyways. It’s really not that fancy of a place, and they’re definitely grossly overdressed in their suits, but it’s posh by his own standards. He’s pretty much been eating fast food for the past six months, so anything seems fancy in comparison. The meats, in particular, catch his eye.

“What is this place, again?” Zayn asks, glancing up at Niall. “Did you bring us here on purpose?”

Lowering his glass, Niall reaches out to tap lightly at Zayn’s wrist. He’s been toying around with a napkin, trying to expel what nervousness he’s feeling. “ _Nuba_ ,” Niall says. “Lebanese. Came up when I was looking for halal places. I looked it up and it got good reviews, so.”

Niall says this with a quietly pleased smile on his face, flushed slightly, and Zayn’s heart might soar. Just a bit.

“It’s good. It looks really good, promise. And it saves me from asking, so. That, too,” Zayn says.

Niall nods, taps on Zayn’s fingers lightly before pulling back his hand and picking up his own menu. The problem Zayn has is that everything looks good. 

“Our other plans are technically set to start at nine, but we can really get there whenever.” Niall shuts his menu again, looking up at Zayn. “That all right?”

“Yeah. Yes, of course,” Zayn nods. In all honesty, he almost forgot that there would be a part two to this date. And a part three, he thinks, remembering Harry’s attempted wink. Jesus. 

The waiter shows up, then, asking for their orders, and Zayn picks something blindly off the menu—lamb chops—and hands his menu over. Niall orders something with beef and hands his back, also, and then they’re alone again.

“Do I get, like, a hint?” Zayn asks. Niall’s fingers are laced loosely with his own, again, his palm a little cold from holding his glass. “For what we’re doing later, I mean.”

Niall _hmm_ s, eyes narrowing all serious-like. “I mean, I wasn’t planning on it. But I can give you one, if you want.”

“Just don’t want to get caught off guard.”

“Ahh.” Niall’s eyes widen to their normal size again. “Right. I get that. Kind of unfair to you if everything is a _complete_ surprise.”

He looks at Zayn as if for confirmation, and when he nods along Niall continues. “So, after we’re done Laura will take us on a drive across the bridge. She lives closeby and she offered to. That’ll take five minutes, or ten minutes tops. And what we’re going to be doing… we kind of have all night with it? We can leave at any time, whenever we’re done, and then we can head home and sleep for the next fifteen hours.”

It sounds interesting, if anything. It’s Harry approved, and Zayn already trusts Niall more than he probably should, so he squeezes Niall’s fingers lightly.

“Sounds like a plan, then.”

 

****

 

True to his word, the drive only takes around five minutes. To Zayn’s surprise Niall flops into the backseat with him instead of taking the front. Niall is warm and giggling, and Zayn feels like he’s floating. Laura drops them off when Niall leans forward and starts smacking at her arm, saying loudly, “ _Here! Here is good. Stop here._ ”

“That’s a lot of ‘ _here_ ’s,” she says, rolling her eyes at him. She’s grinning, though, and pulls over regardless. “Have fun walking in the rain, weirdos.”

In response Niall just sends her back a bright, tipsy grin and gives a little salute. “Thank you, missus, for the ride.”

“Don’t test me,” she retorts, eyeing Niall sharply in the rearview mirror. “I’ll drive back to the bridge and shove you out.”

“Wouldn’t,” says Niall, crooked smile still in place. Cute.

“Would,” Laura says.

They might be able to go on forever, and that would be really shitty. Zayn didn’t put on a suit just to not have it be ripped off. Or gently taken off. Whichever, really. 

“Niall,” he says, purposely putting a bit of a whine in his voice. The voice that always makes Niall look at him like he’s the cutest person in the world. It’s not true but, like, he’ll use it to his advantage. Zayn puts his hand on Niall’s knee, squeezing it lightly.

Niall tears his gaze away from the mirror, where he and Laura were having a stare-down of sorts, and looks at Zayn with wide eyes. “I’m wasting time, _shit_ , sorry. See you Tuesday, Laura?”

“Yeah, yeah, we’ll see. Scram.” 

With that they stumble out of the car, Niall’s arm warm around his waist for a brief moment. It’s pouring as per usual, so Zayn’s helpless but to follow as Niall goes jogging down the sidewalk with his suit jacket hiked up over his head. He looks ridiculous, and Zayn might be a bit in love. Maybe. His mom is usually right, anyways.

“Where are we going?” Zayn manages through his breaths. He has to yell a bit over the wind and the rain, but Niall slows down anyways, grabs at his hand and swings their arms between them.

“We’re going to the _moon_ ,” Niall says, giggly and a bit tipsy and about as bright as Zayn’s ever seen him. 

“To the _mooooooon_ ,” Zayn says back, because the champagne is bubbly in his chest, too, and Niall makes him want to let his guard down. It’s nice; it’s something he could get used to.

Niall laughs full on, and then he’s tugging Zayn around a fountain and under a huge awning of sorts. Looking up at the massive building makes Zayn’s head spin, and he has to look back down and blink to come back to himself.

“This…” Zayn trails off as Niall yanks open the doors and leads him inside. It’s huge, with high ceilings and this strange-looking ceiling decoration, and there are televisions mounted on the walls with different pictures. And Zayn blinks hard at that, because he hasn’t been in here before, but he can guess with some surety where they are, and it sends his heart into his throat.

“Welcome to my place of work!” Niall crows, spinning around in the middle of the room. The light reflects different colours onto his skin, like he’s a figure in a stained glass window.

Zayn _ahh_ s, says, “To the moon, yeah?”

A lot dizzy and little tipsy still, Niall stops spinning and stumbles his way back over to Zayn. “Sort of, like. We can look at the moon, if you want. She’s beautiful. But I mean we can look at stars and constellations and planets, too. The observatory closes at midnight but I pulled some strings and we kind of have the place to ourselves until two-thirty. If that’s all right, that is.” 

Zayn’s not cheesy enough to compare Niall’s eyes to stars, or the little moles and freckles on his neck to constellations, so he settles for taking a hold of Niall’s wrist and tracing patterns over his skin. The sentiment, he hopes, is perceived the same way.

“More than all right.”

 

****

 

It’s later, after Niall’s dragged him through all the exhibits—“ _You know, people usually pay for these tours, and you’re getting them for free_ ,” he says—and most of the people have filed out that they finally are on their own. It should make Zayn feel small, to be in this humongous observatory with just Niall, but he’s overwhelmed with emotion and awe that the entire room might as well be full.

“Stored the blankets here earlier this week,” Niall explains, draping one around Zayn’s shoulders. He tucks it around him like a cape, little tie and everything. “I like to be prepared, y’know. I asked Cal about this ages ago to make sure that I could make it happen. Just wanted to like… share this with you. And the clouds cleared up, thank God.”

Zayn nods, and Niall tucks him into his side so they can both look into the telescope.

“Ah. The Big Dipper,” says Niall, voice faux-serious. Zayn doesn’t have to look at him to know he’s grinning widely.

“Think I know that one,” he replies, bumping Niall with his hip. Niall bumps him back and then pulls him in close again with a quiet, “ _All right, all right_ ,” whispered into his ear.

There’s something about this, Zayn thinks, that sets things in place for them. Or maybe they’re starting to move towards something—into something _more_. Whatever it is makes him feel homey and content. Niall’s a warmth like Arizona in the middle of this often rainy, often grey place. It’s like a part of Zayn’s old home is here with him in this new one he’s settled into. It feels right, more than anything.

“Paying attention?” Niall asks. He’s gone quiet, soft and subdued in the way he gets when he’s feeling lazy or still shaking off sleep in the morning. “You got kind of spaced out, there.”

Niall looks up pointedly at the sky and waggles his eyebrows at his own pun, but otherwise doesn’t break this calm they’ve settled into. The night is cold, still damp from the rain, but they’re wrapped in these obnoxiously fluffy blankets and pressed together under the stars, so it’s pretty nice. Zayn wouldn’t want to be anywhere else, at least.

“Just… I’m thinking about how perfect this is,” Zayn starts, looking from Niall to the stars then back again. “Not just this date but, like. _This_ , you know? Us together… we’re really good.”

He’s half expecting Niall to coo at him and pinch the skin on his inner elbow the way he does when Zayn gets sappy. Instead, Niall shifts even closer. Their foreheads are almost touching when Niall says, “Yeah, we are.”

When Zayn moves back, tilts his chin, it feels like they’re stepping over a line, though simultaneously it feels like the most natural thing in the world. Their noses, wind-frozen, bump gently together, and Niall chuckles deep in his chest. Zayn can feel it in his own ribs, what with how close they are.

“Yeah?” Niall asks, nudging his nose softly into Zayn’s cheek.

Zayn nods quickly, and then Niall’s turning into him properly, gently tugging on Zayn’s waist so they’re facing each other. It’s a miracle in itself that Niall’s hands have stayed warm, and Zayn wants to chase it. He wants to fall right into this more than he’s wanted anything.

“Yeah,” Zayn says, just in case Niall needs more confirmation.

Niall smiles right into the kiss, and Zayn can almost taste the smile on his lips. He tastes like champagne, bubbly and light, and it’s everything Zayn thought this would be. Eventually Niall’s smile fades enough that they can kiss properly, and then Niall’s large hands are spread around Zayn’s back. He feels warm all over.

It’s with almost monumental effort that Zayn unlatches his fingers from where they’re gripping Niall’s shirt. He brings his hands up to Niall’s jaw, nudging until they’re slotted together more firmly and he can trace Niall’s lip with the tip of his tongue. Niall’s hum vibrates against his teeth, and Zayn feels himself melting into it, turning into putty in Niall’s hands. 

It’s new to him, this kind of relationship where he feels less like he has to be some constantly strong figure. It feels nice to hand things over for Niall to take care of. Freeing and calming in a way Zayn didn’t think he needed.

He has to pull back to take a gasping breath, and Niall moves to kiss down his jaw, presses light kisses onto each of his cheekbones before pecking his lips again. When he pulls back and Zayn opens his eyes, he can just make out a blush on Niall’s cheeks in the dim light of the outside lamp. Zayn moves his hands from behind Niall’s neck to press against his cheeks, and sure enough they’re hot against his fingertips. He wonders if Niall blushes all over, under the right circumstances.

“Maybe,” Niall says. His lips brush against Zayn’s when he speaks, and Niall kisses him once again, quick like he can’t help himself.

“Maybe what?” Zayn asks. Why did they stop kissing, again? At some point Niall’s hands made their way under Zayn’s shirt, and now he’s tracing patterns into Zayn’s skin with his fingertips. It’s horribly distracting, but Niall’s next words snap Zayn back into focus.

“Staying at your place, I mean. If the offer still stands, the answer is maybe.”

It’s impressive on Zayn’s part, to pull away enough so that they can look at each other properly. Their noses aren’t touching anymore, and Niall pouts at him, but if there’s anything Zayn’s learned, it’s that communication is fucking _key_.

“What does ‘maybe’ mean?” he asks. Niall’s still frowning, but Zayn stretches the edges of his lips up with his thumbs until Niall breaks and starts grinning again.

“Well, it means a lot of things,” Niall says. “But you have to come back, first.”

Zayn rolls his eyes, because Niall is ridiculously touchy, but he complies. It’s not like he would mind being closer. “Barely moved in the first place, babe.”

Quietly, Niall giggles, says, “Ha, _babe_ ,” against his lips before diving back in again. Zayn allows it for now, because Niall’s thumbs are pressing into his hips, and Niall is like a damn heater in comparison to Zayn’s own skin.

“Okay— _Niall_ , seriously,” Zayn laughs. He moves back a bit, but doesn’t resist when Niall keeps him close.

“All right,” Niall says, knocking their noses. “‘Maybe’ means that I want to. It means I’ve wanted to be with you for ages, and I realized it back when you first stopped talking to me on Skype.” 

Zayn groans at that, remembering his fucking pity session and the stack of DVDs he’d made his way through while moping on the couch.

Niall smiles widely at him but pushes on. “It’s like. Everything is going pretty fast, and maybe we are jumping into this too quick, but if this is something we both want then maybe we should do it anyway, because why not?” Niall’s hands move from his waist, up until his fingers are at Zayn’s neck. Deftly, he unties the knot that he made earlier in the blanket and rearranges it so they can share it.

“What ‘maybe’ means to me is that I want to stay. I want to stay because I feel more at home at your place than I do at Louis’ or Harry’s. Like, it doesn’t have to be a permanent thing right away, I don’t think, but we could have something really good here.”

Zayn’s heart clogs up his throat, glazing over his eyes, and all he can manage is a nod. Because what else can he say? Emotions are rising and expanding in his chest, and maybe Zayn will try to write it all out. Later.

Then Niall beams, and it’s bright and sunny as always, but now Zayn is allowed to lean in and kiss at the corner of it. Of course Niall turns and tries to deepen it, though. Their teeth clang together a bit, and they end up giggling into each other more than they end up actually kissing. 

Zayn thinks it’s something he wants to get used to.

“I think we could, too,” Zayn says, words pressed into Niall’s smile. “I think that would be, like, good. Really, really good.”

“So that’ll be all right? Staying?” Niall pulls back again, kisses at Zayn’s cheek again before gently turning them so they can look out at the stars again.

“Yeah. My room is on offer now, though, since you kind of stole the couch from Tiger.” Zayn pinches lightly at his cheeks, teasing. Niall just laughs.

They’re shivering a bit under the blanket, the late night chill seeping through the blanket and into their bones. Zayn’s teeth are starting to chatter, a bit, but he still doesn’t want to leave. He doesn’t ever want to stop being under the stars with Niall.

There’s a dimple in Niall’s cheek, showing up shadowed in the light of the streetlamp, and Zayn hasn’t seen it before. Didn’t know it was there. He presses his thumb into it for a second, watching as Niall’s already huge smile widens in response. Zayn can’t wait to find all the other things he hasn’t noticed about Niall. They have all the time in the world, after all.

“Yeah, that sounds perfect,” Niall says, pulling Zayn back towards the telescope. His fingers press lightly against Zayn’s wrist.

“You wanna be the big spoon?” Zayn asks. He’s only half joking, but Niall’s eyes light up. The smile on his face reminds Zayn of the one Harry makes when he’s about to make an awful joke.

“Do you know how happy I’d be to be the big spoon?”

“Niall. Don’t make a pun.” Zayn tries to sound serious, because he’s already heard enough puns to last him the rest of his life, but he’s already giggling so it doesn’t sound convincing in the slightest. It’s hard to not be giggly and goofy around Niall.

Niall laughs, smacks a loud kiss against Zayn’s temple. “I’d be _over the moon_.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, what a wild ride this was. Oh my goodness. P.S. I'm sorry I had to edit this 1000 times since I posted it, but the formatting keeps screwing up. Anyways, I'm a huge sap so bear with these long thank you notes. 
> 
> Thanks to Zane for being the first person to actually read this and tell me to keep going. Also to Janelle, Pia, and Seren who have been so encouraging, enthusiastic and supportive re: this whole thing - you're the best cheerleaders. Thanks also to Lindsay who has been making Everything about Ziall, spitballing ideas with me and convincing me not to drop out. Thank you to Peyton, who messaged me, "JUST SIGN UP! JUST DO IT!" and has been such a good sport about dealing with me ever since.
> 
> Extra special thank you's go out to Lo and Di for holding my hands through this whole thing. Lo, you're an absolute angel and I appreciate you so so much for going over all this, telling me it's not horrible, and for editing it all under so much pressure. You're remarkable. Di, you lovely artist, beautiful playlist maker, amazing friend, you. Thank you so so much for your beautiful artwork and your beautiful self. I'm very happy to call you a friend.
> 
> Also to Eva, who early on proposed the summary, "space. pining. niall fucks the moon," I'm sorry I couldn't follow through on the last part, even though I wasn't really planning on it. Two out of three ain't bad. 
> 
> And thank you to everyone who has ever sent me one positive word, tbh. You're my favourites.
> 
>  
> 
> [Come say hi on tumblr](https://zot5.tumblr.com/), [take a look at the tumblr post](http://1dbigbang.tumblr.com/post/142355339090/afairfight-out-of-space-out-of-time-by-flares), and [listen to the playlist!](http://wepush.tumblr.com/post/141683211660/out-of-space-out-of-time-flares-for-1d-big-bang) Feedback is loved and appreciated as always :)


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